The World Ends With You, Too: Test of Faith
by Astral Miracle
Summary: For one fleeting moment, life seemed full of promise to Celia Winter, a struggling young artist living in the Seattle metropolitan area. Then, without warning, she found herself trapped in a tortuous game of life and death. Now, the enigmatic Reapers, the deadly Noise, and even her own partner stand between Celia and her desperate wish to return to the dear friend she left behind.
1. Foreword

**Disclaimer**

The World Ends With You remains the property of Jupiter and Square Enix. I do not own The World Ends With You, nor do I own any part of Jupiter or Square Enix. Similarly, I do not own the game's setting, the lyrics to the game's songs, or any of the characters originally appearing in the game. This story is entirely a derivative work.

This story is rated T for language and themes of violence and death.

* * *

 **About This Story**

Have you ever found yourself wishing for a sequel to _The World Ends With You_? I have, and I'm sure I'm not alone out there. Seeing the little teaser in the iOS remake didn't do much to satiate that urge, either.

This story, _The World Ends With You, Too: A Test of Faith_ , is my attempt to create a story sequel for _The World Ends With You_. It takes place after the events of original game, and as you may have guessed already from the summary, it uses a different setting as well (Seattle, Washington, USA). Though it addresses a few of the loose ends left by _The World Ends With You_ , it is meant to be a standalone story. Depending on how well this story is received, I may try to continue it later in a way that directly addresses Shibuya's fate.

Most of the characters that appear in this story are of my own creation. However, two of the characters from _The World Ends With You_ have prominent roles here, too, and several other characters are briefly mentioned or referenced. Because these borrowed characters originate from Tokyo, Japan, my story portrays them as native Japanese speakers. This story is written in English, but there are a handful of lines in Japanese sprinkled throughout. Most of these lines will be explained by the context, but I will include translations at the end of each chapter they appear in.

Choosing this story's genre was rather difficult. I considered tagging it as Supernatural / Romance, since there are some strong romantic undertones behind the main character's actions. However, I ultimately decided that my initial inclination, Supernatural / Friendship, was a better fit. I only hope that it's not too misleading.

At the time I am writing this note, this story is already entirely written. I'm still in the process of editing it, but my current plan is to upload at least one chapter per week. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any feedback for me, I promise that I read every review posted on any of my stories, and that I will try to respond to as many of them as possible.

Thank you.


	2. Prologue: A Cacophony of Emptiness

**~ Prologue ~**

 **A Cacophony of Emptiness**

* * *

 _Calling,_

 _You hear the calling,_

 _Calling,_

 _You hear the calling…_

* * *

23-year-old Celia Winter had never been much of a morning person. Since her work rarely called for her to wake up early, she often slept through the better part of the morning. As such, her roommate wasn't overly surprised to find her sprawled out over their dining room table, fast asleep.

"Huh. Back to bed with you, Sleeping Beauty."

Celia lifted her head drowsily to see her best friend standing over her, wearing an amused expression. "Good morning, Karen," she murmured.

"Why are you up so early?" Karen asked as she took the seat across from Celia. "Do you need to drop off a commission?"

Celia yawned wearily, and roughly brushing several strands of her long, black hair out of her eyes. "No, not today," she said. "I just couldn't sleep."

"You seemed to be sleeping fine just now," Karen remarked teasingly.

"Yeah, well. Whatever," Celia mumbled. She reached for her bowl of soggy and thus far untouched cornflakes, only for Karen to abruptly pull it out of her reach. "Hey!"

"Did you serve yourself with a teaspoon? Celia, the starving artist is a stereotype, not a way of life! Honestly!" Karen admonished. Then, ignoring Celia's protests, she reached for the cereal box and filled the bowl up to the brim.

"What are you, my father?" Celia sighed helplessly.

"When I have to be," Karen answered cheerily as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "You have any plans for the day?"

Celia thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll probably head into Seattle later," she replied.

"I thought you said you didn't need to drop off anything today," Karen said, shooting her friend an odd look.

"I don't," Celia confirmed. "But I'm beginning to fall behind on my work. I have six commissions that I need to finish by next Friday."

"That many?" Karen asked, genuinely surprised. "Nice!"

"It's not _that_ nice," Celia said hastily. "Two of them are smaller pieces. Even if all six of my clients come through, it'll only come out to four hundred in total."

"Well, at least you're scraping by. How many of your old classmates could say the same?" Karen pointed out.

"Actually…" Celia began.

"How many of them that aren't working in a coffee shop or supermarket," Karen amended.

"I think the rest of them have pretty much given up by now," Celia admitted. "I heard Terrence is going back to school to study some sort of engineering, but that's all, really."

"See?" Karen grinned. "You're doing alright. You've even got a steady-ish income from one of those peon-thingies now."

"," Celia corrected automatically.

"Whatever. The point is, you're getting by when almost everyone else has just given up. Give yourself some credit," Karen insisted.

Her friend's relentless optimism proved contagious, and Celia couldn't help but smile. "You know what? You're right," Celia conceded. "I guess I'm doing okay, and I should be getting a nice bonus next week, too, if everything goes well."

"See? That's the spirit," Karen nodded approvingly. "Though, if you're really worried about finishing in time, maybe you should stay home and catch up on your work instead."

Celia hesitated. "No, I get too distracted when working from home," she said slowly.

"Well, if it's distractions you're worried about, you could pick a quieter place to work instead, like a library or something," Karen offered, feigning innocence.

"Umm… I don't know…" Celia stammered, fumbling for another excuse.

"Unless you're hoping to be distracted," Karen added slyly. "Are you meeting up with that friend of yours again? The one with a girl's name?"

Celia's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "I don't know. Maybe," she admitted.

"Maybe?" Karen echoed, before heaving an exasperated sigh. "Come on, Celia. We're not in high school anymore. You've got his number. Just text him and tell him you want to see him or something. You don't need to spend the entire day sitting in a coffee shop hoping he'll come by. I mean, you don't even drink coffee!"

"He doesn't drink coffee, either," Celia pointed out.

"That's exactly my point," Karen smirked. "You two are being perfectly ridiculous about this."

Celia chuckled weakly. "Just me, I think," she admitted. "He works in that area, and drops by for tea."

"You don't honestly believe he drops by Starbucks three-plus times a week just for tea, do you?" Karen asked incredulously.

"Why not? Plenty of people go there for coffee every day," Celia said defensively.

"People with too much money and too little sense," Karen grumbled distastefully, though she couldn't quite keep her envy from showing through.

"Probably," Celia agreed. "But I really do like working there, Karen. I'm used to the background noise by now, after all the time I've spent loitering around waiting for my clients to show up."

"If you say so," Karen said, sounding unconvinced. Still, she decided to let the matter drop, and silently toyed with her phone as she waited for Celia to finish eating.

* * *

After placing her dishes on the drying rack, Celia collected her purse and laptop bag. "See you later, Karen," she said.

"Hold up," Karen insisted, quickly retrieving her own purse. "I'm coming with you."

"You are? What for?" Celia asked, startled.

"To meet this friend of yours, of course," Karen replied.

"But I don't even know if he'll be there today," Celia reminded.

Karen shrugged. "I've got the day off and nothing better to do, anyways."

Celia eyed Karen suspiciously, and for the first time, she noticed that her friend actually looked ready to go; Karen usually spent upwards of an hour fiddling with her hair, makeup, and clothing before going anywhere. "You already knew where I was going any why," Celia accused.

"Of course I did," Karen grinned. "You've only been visiting that same coffee shop four or five times a week, lately. You don't mind if I tag along today, do you?"

Celia sighed, somewhat annoyed by her friend's nosiness and teasing. At the same time, she quite enjoyed having company while she worked, and found the offer appealing nonetheless. "No, I don't," she decided. "Let's go. The bus should be here soon."

* * *

The two young women set out together, setting a leisurely pace as they made their way towards the nearest bus stop. Their timing proved perfect, and the bus pulled up beside them less than a minute after their arrival.

But as Celia started up the steps, she saw that Karen was no longer following her. She looked back to find the distracted brunette standing still on the sidewalk, entranced by her phone and seemingly oblivious to the bus's arrival. "Hey! Are you coming or not?" she prompted impatiently.

"Oh! Yeah, of course," Karen answered hastily, before scrambling aboard. Her attention remained fixated upon her phone, though, even after the bus began moving.

"What are you reading?" Celia asked, peering curiously over Karen's shoulder.

"Have you heard about the recent string of vandalisms?" Karen asked.

"Vandalisms? You mean those random junk heaps? Of course I have. It's been all over the news," Celia said, smiling at the thought of the outlandish story.

"They found another one this morning. This one's got half a car in it," Karen said, giggling. She held up her phone for Celia to get a better look. Sure enough, the front half of a beaten chrome sedan comprised the base of the oddly geometric tower.

"And the police still haven't figured out who's responsible?" Celia asked, flabbergasted. "That's the art museum in the background, isn't it? How could someone have built that tower right in the middle of downtown without anyone noticing?"

"Don't ask me," Karen shrugged. "Honestly, I was more surprised by the one they found last week. That one had a whole piano in it, and was right in the middle of Pike Place Market. You should see the theories people have come up with, though. The other day, someone said it was the police pulling a three-month late April Fools' prank."

"And no one noticed the police roping off the entire block in the middle of the night, right?" Celia commented dryly.

"I didn't say their theories made sense. Someone else claimed it was Paul Allen trying to spell his name on a map of the city," Karen added impishly.

Celia stared at her friend in disbelief. "Just where are you finding these people?" she asked.

"Oh, here and there," Karen said, stashing her phone in her purse. "When you spend seven hours a day browsing the web, you come across some pretty strange stuff."

"Your boss still hasn't given you any real work, then?" Celia asked sympathetically.

"Oh, sure he has," Karen said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Now I get to sort the mail, too, after fetching him his coffee. This internship is turning out to be pretty stupid. You'd think I was hired just to sit there and look pretty."

"Maybe you should start looking for another job," Celia suggested.

"Yeah," Karen agreed. "Hey, doesn't your boyfriend run his own company? Maybe he's hiring."

"Faith isn't my boyfriend," Celia said obstinately. "And his business is a nonprofit that does rehab counseling or something. I don't think they'd have a marketing department." She frowned. "I guess we could ask him," she added grudgingly.

Karen stared at Celia thoughtfully, for her friend's hesitation had not escaped her. "I promise I won't try to steal him from you, if that's what you're worried about," she assured, smiling playfully.

"Oh, I know," Celia replied, laughing lightly. "I don't think he's really your type, anyways. But thanks."

If anything, Celia should have been more worried about the opposite happening. She knew that she herself was not unattractive, with her slender frame, softer features, and exotic eyes stemming from her half-Asian heritage, but Karen was a veritable paragon of classical beauty. The brunette was slender, yet curvy in all the right places, and had beautifully rounded, piercing green eyes that easily enraptured almost everyone she met. Along with her careful attention in maintaining every last detail of her appearance, it was enough to lead many to mistake the recently-graduated marketing student for a fashion model instead.

Yet for some reason that Celia herself didn't fully understand, she wasn't overly concerned about Faith falling for her friend, either. As she paused to consider her own surprising confidence, her frown unconsciously returned.

Misinterpreting Celia's contemplative look, Karen's smile faded as well. "If it bothers you, I won't ask him," she offered. "It's probably moot, anyways."

Celia shook her head quickly. "It's fine," she said. "We _should_ ask him. We really need to get you away from that creep you're stuck working for."

Karen chuckled. "At least the dirty old pervert hasn't done anything but stare when he thinks I'm not looking," she said. "I can't believe I had to beat out six others for this position. If you ever decide to give up on your art career and go back to school, don't go into marketing."

"Duly noted," Celia replied dryly, and the two women shared a laugh.

"Then again, you've met your own share of creeps too, haven't you?" Karen said, when their laughter subsided. "Like the one who sent you all those absurd hates messages last weekend."

Celia groaned. "You know, those weren't even the creepiest e-mails I've received, just the most outrageous," she said.

"I still say you should have gone to the cops. That maniac even threatened to shoot you," Karen said, frowning worriedly.

"Yeah. He even went into great detail about his gun. Which, when we looked it up, turned out to be a nerf gun, remember?" Celia sighed.

"Empty threat or not, it's probably still enough to get that asshole arrested," Karen pointed out.

"He's not worth the effort," Celia insisted.

"Fair enough. He's only one in a long line of creeps, anyways," Karen conceded. "And the jury's still out on this friend of yours, too, especially if he really seems as nice as you say."

Celia stared at her sharply. "I think you've been reading too many of those dark romance novels of yours, Karen," she remarked.

"They're not wrong, though. Everybody has their secrets. The nicer a guy seems, the more he's hiding, usually," Karen said with a shrug.

"So does that make Faith a serial killer or a CIA agent?" Celia asked, rolling her eyes.

"A politician, obviously," Karen joked.

Celia feigned a horrified look. "A politician? Anything but that," she pleaded in mock desperation, before both women dissolved into peals of laughter once more.

"In all seriousness," Karen said, finally calming. "It's probably nothing crazy like that. I'm just a bit worried, since you haven't really told me much about him."

"There's not all that much to tell," Celia answered helplessly.

"Well, what's he like?" Karen prompted.

"Hmm… well, he's pretty soft-spoken," Celia began. "He always seems really relaxed; I can't remember seeing him get upset about anything. Even that one time when he said he was really busy with work, he didn't seem too tired or stressed out."

"Maybe he's always stoned," Karen quipped. "I'm kidding," she added hastily, when Celia scowled at her. She turned and peered out the window, watching the mild waves go by as the bus moved along the floating bridge. "What do you two usually talk about?"

"Sometimes he tells me stories about his office," Celia said, temporarily mollified. "But he usually asks to see what I'm working on. I've started showing him some of my older pieces, lately."

"What, like the landscapes and still lifes you used to draw?" Karen asked.

"Yeah," Celia nodded. "I think he actually prefers those to my more recent work."

"He's got good taste, then," Karen said, impressed. "I mean, no offense, but all that fan art you've been commissioned to draw lately is pretty cliché and unimaginative."

"None taken," Celia sighed. "I find the pop culture stuff just as boring as you and Faith do. It's all been done to death a million times over. Still, that's all people seem willing to pay for. They just want to see their favorite movie, video game, and anime characters and scenes." Feeling rather silly, she shook her head. "I really shouldn't be complaining. At least I found a market, even if it wasn't the one I was searching for."

"Well, you found at least one other person who shares your taste in art, right?" Karen reminded encouragingly. "There has to be others like your new friend. You just have to figure out how to reach them."

"True, but that's another thing," Celia mused. "I'm not sure why Faith is so fascinated with my art. He's not really the artistic type, himself."

"How do you know?" Karen asked. She winced, a troubling thought suddenly occurring to her. "Don't tell me he's one of those guys with less than zero fashion sense."

"I don't know what his fashion sense is like. I've never seen him _not_ wearing a suit and tie," Celia admitted. "But this one time, he was asking me about my drawing pad. I offered to let him draw something on it, and he drew the dopiest looking cat I've ever seen."

"Eh… I doubt I could've done much better," Karen said fairly.

"But that's not all," Celia said, trying not to laugh. "Last week, I asked him about his plans for the weekend. Turns out he lost a bet against his business partner, and wound up owing his office a batch of cupcakes. He saved one for me, too. It was… well, it doesn't look like any other cupcake I've seen before. Here, I took a picture." She shuffled through her own phone until she reached a picture of a small chocolate cake topped with plain white frosting molded into various geometric shapes.

"Did he use cookie cutters to shape the frosting or something?" Karen asked, inspecting the image closely.

"I think he used a knife. The cake is a little bit scuffed up, too," Celia said, pointing out several shallow scratches with frosting within them.

"At least it looks edible, even if it's sort of ridiculous," Karen observed.

"It was actually really good," Celia said. "I thought he would have used a baking mix or something, but he said he made them all from scratch."

The bus lurched suddenly, and began grinding to a halt. Though the bus was still slowing, Celia rose to her feet and began hurriedly gathering her belongings. "This is our stop," she explained unnecessarily, as Karen followed suit, albeit with far more patience.

"Think he'll be there already?" Karen asked.

"Probably not. He usually doesn't show up until noon, at least," Celia said, though she couldn't quite keep the hopeful note from her voice.

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky," Karen said cheerfully.

* * *

Two blocks away from the coffee shop to which Celia and Karen were headed, a young Japanese man stood in the middle of one of Seattle's lesser-used streets, toiling away. He had lightened his hair to an odd shade of gray, but with his otherwise youthful looks, no one could possibly have mistaken him for an older man. His skin was deeply tanned, and served to emphasize the peculiar, fanatical look in his eyes. His clothing looked as out of place on him as he did in the street, too. He wore a finely tailored, black short-sleeved coat, embellished by polished brass buttons, and a ragged pair of distressed gray jeans. A red bandana and plain black baseball cap completed his bizarre ensemble.

None of the streets at the heart of the populous city were truly derelict, and several pedestrians wandered past the mysterious foreigner. Yet somehow, he managed to avoid drawing any attention from them at all, despite his unusual appearance. Stranger still, his project – a meticulously arranged pile of random garbage pilfered from various dumpsters – also remained unnoticed.

Ignoring the world around him, the self-proclaimed artist scaled the precarious sculpture, adding the final touches to the top with unbridled glee. Once the last piece was in place and the sculpture reached nearly twenty feet high, he leapt down to the sidewalk, landing gracefully on his feet. He reached into his pocket and silenced his incessantly beeping phone, then drew forth a silver marker. He then began scanning the street impatiently, as if he was waiting for a specific moment.

A young Caucasian man, barely more than a teenager, strolled around the nearest corner. The vandal smiled eagerly and readied his marker, but stopped, sensing that something even stranger was afoot. He stared at newcomer curiously, looking past the pedestrian's pasty complexion, unimpressive stature, and gangly limbs.

The vandal grinned wickedly, for in those brief seconds, he had understood far more than any normal man should have been able to. He reached into his pocket again, replacing his marker and withdrawing his phone, which still displayed a long stream of unread messages.

"Zetta osoindayo," the would-be vandal cackled derisively in his native tongue.

* * *

Stopped at an intersection, Celia and Karen watched as a large group of tourists traveled perpendicular to them.

"Headed towards the Space Needle, I bet," Karen remarked.

"Definitely," Celia agreed. "Did you see the older man with the goatee? That's Ivan. He's a tour guide. I see him at the coffee shop a lot, too."

"I've never understood why people are so interested in visiting that tower," Karen said, shaking her head. "It does look kind of weird, but that's about it. Why bother going inside? To ride an elevator? Or to visit the mediocre, overpriced restaurant on top?"

"Well, most of them are tourists here to see our city, and the Space Needle is one of our city's symbols, isn't it?" Celia reasoned. "Though why anyone considers it a symbol, I don't know."

"Bo-ring," Karen declared. Just then, the lights changed, and the two of them crossed the street. Not far away, their destination came into view, with the familiar green-and-white logo painted on the glass beside the doorway. "By the way, what does your friend look like?"

Celia opened her mouth to answer, but her words died away as she spotted something jarringly out of the ordinary.

A dark-haired man who looked approximately their age was sprinting down the sidewalk towards them from the direction of the coffee store. He was wearing a fine business suit, tailored to his solidly built, six-foot frame, but it didn't seem to hamper him in the least as he pushed his way past the other pedestrians.

"Is that him?" Karen asked, following Celia's gaze.

Celia nodded numbly. Though Faith's glasses had gone dark in the sunlight, making it hard for her to read his expression, she knew at once that something was wrong; his frantic movements were shockingly uncharacteristic.

Then he came within earshot of Celia and Karen. "Celia! Get down!" Faith cried.

Celia and Karen exchanged bewildered looks. Then Celia again looked towards her fast-approaching friend.

Faith plunged his left hand into his suit, towards his right hip. He drew forth a small, metallic implement that glistened brightly, reflecting the rays of the morning sun above, and pointed it directly at the two women.

A handgun.

"Look out!" Karen screamed, as cries of horror erupted all along the street. The brunette seized Celia's hand, thinking to dive to the ground and drag her friend out of the line of fire.

Celia stood frozen for a moment longer. Then she jolted, and her entire body went stiff, as she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her back. An earsplitting crack rang out loudly, spurring on the panicked cries, but to Celia, the raucous seemed to dampen. She tried to move, but felt unnaturally sluggish. Her gaze drifted downward, only to find the ground racing up to catch her.

She laid there, unmoving, only faintly aware of the continuing screams around her. It was as if a tangible fog had set upon her, gradually drowning the noise around her in silence. Then a single voice pierced through the cloud of haziness, and a shiver ran down her spine, for never before had she heard that voice so beset by distress and terror.

"CELIA!"

Celia felt a gentle hand clamping down tightly on her back. Then she felt an arm around her, tugging at her and turning her over. After what seemed like an eternity, the world slowly and blurrily crept back into view. Someone was leaning over her, and though she couldn't make out his face, she knew exactly who it was.

"No! Celia! Stay with me, C!"

"Faith?" Celia murmured weakly.

"Stay with me!"

Long past the point of conscious thought, Celia felt a distinct urge to pull away in disgust. She felt, too, an equal urge to reach up and touch the man cradling her in his arms. In the end, she did neither, for she had little strength left with which to move. Her eyelids fluttered, and her head lolled to the side, giving her a brief glimpse of a dark, unknowable object lying beside her.

"No! Hang in there! Breathe, damn it!"

Faith's voice began growing softer, too, until it was entirely incoherent. Feeling impossibly tired, Celia closed her eyes. The throbbing pain she had felt before collapsing began to leave her, as did any other sense of feeling.

Then she heard Faith's voice once more. The desperation and panic had left him, and he spoke in the same mellow, serene, and confident tone she remembered, one that brought her a single, brief moment of solace, one that resonated with a haunting tone of finality.

"It's going to be alright. I promise, C. Everything's going to be alright."

* * *

 _Lucky me, destiny,_

 _You were on my side,_

 _Just once more unto the breach,_

 _Dear friend, once more…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Calling.**

 **"Zetta Osoindayo" probably doesn't require translation, but just for completion's sake, it translates (roughly) to "You're zetta slow."**


	3. Day One: A Dissonant Overture

**~ Day One ~**

 **A Dissonant Overture**

* * *

 _You took all that I want,_

 _Memories are brimming, and I hope you know,_

 _I am bleeding eternally,_

 _For you…_

* * *

 _"Hey there."_

 _Celia looked up from her laptop, startled. Engrossed in her work, she hadn't noticed the man approaching her until he spoke. Even after noticing him, she found herself at a loss for words; she had arranged a meeting with a prospective buyer, but the man that stood before her looked rather different from what she had come to expect. Most of her would-be customers met her dressed in simple t-shirts and jeans. The more slovenly of them would arrive wearing sweats, or even gym clothing. None of them had ever arrived dressed in formal business attire, as the man standing before her was._

 _"Is this a bad time?" the man asked apologetically, when she continued to stare with her jaw agape._

 _"Huh? Oh! No, it's fine," Celia stuttered hastily. "Are you Tempest?"_

 _"Tempest?" the man asked, taken aback._

 _Celia blushed, realizing her mistake at once. "It's a screenname… not mine, someone else's… someone that I'm here to meet… he wouldn't give me his real name…" she tried to explain, growing more flustered with each word._

 _The man only chuckled in a disarming manner. "Ah. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, I was only wondering… never mind. I'll just be on my way, then. Good luck."_

 _For some inexplicable reason, Celia suddenly found that she wasn't quite ready for the unexpected conversation to end, despite how embarrassing it had been for her so far. "Wait," she blurted._

 _The man turned back obediently, meeting her gaze. His piercing, dark amber eyes were pleasantly wide and shone with a curious, almost playful spark; Celia couldn't help but feel as if the man was somehow peering straight through her._

 _"You weren't – aren't – interrupting anything important. I'm just here to meet a customer. Well, someone I hope will be a customer, anyways," Celia clarified, trying to find her composure. "I arrange these meetings online, but I'm never sure if my clients will actually show up, or whether the sale will go through. Anyways, what were you wondering about?"_

 _The man shrugged and smiled. "I caught a glimpse of what you were drawing from the doorway," he said. "I thought it looked pretty neat, and was hoping to get a better look at it. If you're willing, of course."_

 _"Well, it's not really… I mean, it isn't actually finished," Celia stammered. In her moment of distraction, she couldn't even remember what it was she had been drawing and had to look down at her laptop's monitor just to remind herself. "But uh… if you want to see it, I don't mind," she said. She indicated the seat beside her, then began clumsily fumbling with her laptop._

 _"Really? Thank you," the man said. "Though, would you mind if I grabbed my drink first?"_

 _"Go for it," Celia said._

 _"And since I'm taking up your time here, would you be willing to let me buy you one, too? Maybe an iced tea or something?" the man went on smoothly._

 _"I already have…" Celia began, indicating the cup beside her, though she stopped abruptly when the strange man's words finally registered. "An iced tea? In Starbucks? How did you know I don't drink coffee?" she asked suspiciously._

 _"You haven't touched your drip coffee yet, and it must have gone cold by now. I figured you only bought it to be polite."_

 _Suddenly afraid, Celia found herself instinctively scanning the coffee shop, ensuring that there were other customers nearby. "How long have you…" she began again, in an accusing tone. And once again, she found herself unable to finish her sentence, for she caught a glimpse of her coffee cup, lying on the far side of the table with her timestamped receipt lying face-up on the lid._

 _"How long have I been here?" the man guessed. "About two minutes, I'd say."_

 _Celia shook her head, feeling incredibly silly. "So, what's this supposed to be? The Sherlock Holmes routine for picking up girls at the local coffee shop?" she asked, laughing to cover her embarrassment._

 _"Is that a thing?" the man asked, frowning thoughtfully._

 _"I have no idea. I just made it up," Celia admitted. To her relief, the man laughed, too, and took no offense._

 _"Sorry if I gave you a scare," he apologized again. "Anyways, I can see that I've made you quite uncomfortable. Let's just forget the whole thing, then."_

 _"No, it's alright," Celia said quickly. "Really, I'm fine," she added, when the man looked unconvinced._

 _The man nodded, then held out his hand. "Faith."_

 _"Faith?" Celia echoed._

 _"That's my name," he explained. "Faith Hollow. I know, it's an odd name for a guy."_

 _Celia smiled. "Hey, I'm the girl who's here waiting for someone who calls himself 'Tempest', remember? Anyways, I'm Celia," she introduced herself._

 _"Nice to meet you. Now if you'll excuse me for a moment," Faith said, before moving to join the line in front of the store's lone register._

* * *

A brief chill roused Celia from her slumber. Then, as she did every morning, she curled herself up more tightly, not yet ready to come awake. When she did, she noticed almost immediately that something was wrong. The chill around her seemed deeper than usual, especially for the summer season, and her bed felt uncomfortably hard beneath her. She fumbled about without opening her eyes and quickly discovered that her homemade quilt was nowhere within reach, either.

She awoke then with a yawn, and to her surprise, she wasn't on her bed at all. Instead, she was lying upon the carpeted floor of a large, unfamiliar room. There were several other people in the room with her, none of whom she recognized. The room was sparsely furnished, with several large couches that looked fairly new and a pair of polished mahogany coffee tables laden with newspapers and magazines.

"Where am I?" Celia muttered, forcing herself into a sitting position.

A middle-aged woman sitting on the couch nearby overheard her, but only shook her head sorrowfully and looked away.

Confused, Celia looked to the others in the room and quickly saw that everyone else with her seemed similarly grave. Some of them were milling about idly, while others, like the middle-aged woman, were seated on the couches. Many more were seated on the ground, leaning against one of the couches or the walls. Only one wall was completely deserted. A single large, tinted window stretched across it, allowing a mote of sunlight in, but leaving the room only dimly lit.

Celia stood and curiously made her way across the room to stand by the window. She immediately recognized the sprawl of buildings below, as well as the other towers around them, including the Space Needle. "Are we in an office building?" she mumbled to herself, glancing towards the room's only door. "How did I end up here?" She shut her eyes tightly, and, ignoring the unpleasant throbbing feeling in her head, tried her best to remember what had happened.

"I woke up early, then fell asleep again," she recounted softly. "Karen woke me up the second time. I came here to Seattle, hoping to see Faith again. Karen came with me. We got off the bus together, and…" She felt a lump rise in her throat as she remembered spotting her friend racing towards her. "He… he shot me!" she exclaimed in horror.

Suddenly remembering that she wasn't alone, Celia clapped her hands over her mouth and turned apologetically to the others in the room. A few of them looked at her sympathetically, but most of the others simply ignored her.

"Why?" Celia whispered, uncomprehending. "And how did I end up here?" She unconsciously reached behind her back as she remembered the sharp sting she had felt in her final moments. Then, recalling that Faith had been standing in front of her, she reached beneath the front of her shirt, too. It proved to be a wasted effort, for she found neither a bullet wound, nor any scarring at all.

"You're not injured."

Celia nearly jumped, startled by the sound of the first voice she had hear asides from her own since waking up. She turned to see a blond-haired man, who looked maybe a year or two older than she was, standing beside her and gazing out of the same window.

"Don't worry. I was pretty surprised, too, when I woke up here after the fire feeling right as rain," the man said. "Graham Smith," he introduced, when he saw her questioning look.

"Umm… I'm Celia. Celia Winter," Celia replied. "Graham, where are we?"

Graham sighed. "You'll see soon enough. Unless we get that clown again. If so, I'll fill you in after."

"Clown?" Celia echoed in confusion.

"You'll know him when you see…" Graham began, but the room's lone door suddenly slammed open.

In stepped perhaps the strangest person Celia had ever seen in her life. He was dressed fully in black, and only barely taller than she was. He seemed unhealthily skinny, with each muscle along his slender, exposed forearms sharply defined. He looked to be of Japanese heritage, though his skin had been tanned unnaturally dark. His eyes bore an almost maniacal look, further emphasized by his lightened hair, red bandana, and black baseball cap.

"Rise and shine, zeroes!" he said, shouting into a black microphone adorned with spiky, jet black wings. Though the microphone didn't seem to be functioning, the man simply spoke forcefully enough for his voice to echo loudly throughout the room. "Time for you worthless fractals to prove your formulas recursive!"

"Here we go again," Graham sighed.

Celia looked at the stranger in black, wondering if perhaps she had simply stepped into another dream. From a dream into a dream, perhaps? Or perhaps it was a dream thrice over now, and she had yet to leave her house, or even her bed.

"Not that the answer remains unknown to me," the strange man went on gloatingly. "Your solutions were defined so long ago I could see them from nine trillion, four hundred and sixty billion, seven hundred and thirty million, four hundred and seventy two thousand, five hundred and eighty meters away!"

Celia gaped at the eccentric man. Then she turned pleadingly to Graham. "Is… is this guy for real?" she asked uncomfortably, keeping her voice low so that she wouldn't be overheard.

"I'm afraid so," Graham answered somberly.

"Now, there _is_ a little variable in your favor this time. Your nanogram of a Game Master might be magnitudes greater than all of you put together, but he still weighs close to nothing," the man in black went on. "If you follow the right algorithms, you might just prove yourself to be more than an integer waiting to be derived."

"Minamimoto," a serene voice interrupted.

The man in black, apparently Minamimoto, turned towards the doorway, scowling as another man entered the room.

The newcomer was stunningly handsome in a rather effeminate way. His finely chiseled features seemed unnaturally delicate. Framed by his long, lustrous golden hair, there was an unusual glow about him that seemed to set everyone at ease… everyone except for Minamimoto, who seemed to be on the verge of an explosion.

"You have no place in this function, Ariel," Minamimoto warned threateningly.

"I'm afraid I must disagree," the newcomer answered politely, but firmly. "Seeing as you have been so strenuously overworked of late, the Composer has asked me to relieve you of this particular duty."

"The Conductor briefs the Players! It's a key theorem integral to my…"

"He said you would say that," the beautiful blond-haired man said with a smile. "He also asked me to remind you that it was _you_ who once insisted that tradition was garbage. Now, I must tend to my labors. If you have any further complaints, you may lodge them with our superior upon his return."

Minamimoto's eyes flashed angrily, and for a second, he looked to be on the verge of leaping across the room and strangling the blond with his bare hands. Instead, he turned and stormed away, barking something incomprehensible in what sounded like Japanese, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hmm… sadly, that went just about as well as I could have hoped," the man Minamimoto had called Ariel mused.

"Not to sound insensitive," a short and rather chubby bald man interrupted. "But what the hell is going on here?"

The blond-haired man looked at the speaker, then surveyed the rest of his audience, eyeing each person in the room in turn. "Allow me to apologize on my colleague's behalf," he began. "My name is Michael Ariel. I am here, on the behalf of the Composer, to extend an invitation to each of you to join us in the Reapers' Game."

"Reapers'… Game?" Celia murmured. She looked around, and was somewhat relieved to see that most of the others with her had had the same reaction. Of those near her, only Graham looked as if he had any inkling as to what was happening, but he did little more than roll his eyes.

"And that means what, exactly?" the bald man demanded impatiently.

"It means that you, and by that, I mean each of you in this room, has met with an untimely fate," Michael answered calmly. "I realize that many of you may still be confused regarding your final moments. Regretfully, I do not have the luxury of helping you through such confusion, and can only offer you two paths by which you may move forward."

"We're… we're dead!?" Celia gasped loudly, and again, a quick glance around the room told her that she was not alone in that sentiment. "But… how?" she asked, wondering how she could be dead, and yet feel not just alive, but perfectly healthy.

Michael's eyes found her, and he smiled sorrowfully. "Miss Celia Winter, I presume?" he asked. Then, apparently misunderstanding her question, he moved to one of the coffee tables nearby and selected one of the newspapers. He offered it to her and patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. "This may enlighten you. I am sorry."

Celia accepted the newspaper, but before she could begin reading, she saw that several of the others in the room were now watching her, sympathy in their eyes. A few others wore looks of revulsion as they glanced at someone sitting against the far wall.

"Mysterious shooter remains unidentified," Celia read aloud quietly. A sickening knot formed in her stomach, and her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Unable to read on, she tore her eyes from the newspaper, forcing herself to pay attention to Michael instead, who was just beginning to speak once more.

"As I mentioned earlier, you are each faced with a decision to make, with two options available to you," Michael said. "You may prefer to accept your fate and move on. If that is the case, you will be erased painlessly. What happens then, I cannot tell you. I can only recommend that you hold firmly to your beliefs, if you are the faithful sort."

"Are you telling us we have another choice?" A brunette teenager interrupted. "Other than staying dead?"

"Indeed you do, Miss Laura Christianson," Michael said, inclining his head in a slight bow. "Should you feel that you have more to live for still, you may attempt to prove it to us here in the Underground. Survive the Reapers' Game, and you may be rewarded with a second chance at life."

Michael's shocking claim was met by absolute silence and the rapt attention of almost every person in the room.

"The Reapers' Game itself is quite simple. Once the Game begins, you must choose another Player to be your partner. Should your partner be erased, you will suffer the same fate, and vice versa," Michael explained. "You will remain in the Underground for seven days. Each day, you will be issued a mission. As will be made abundantly clear in short order, it will be in your best interest to complete these missions quickly and without unnecessary delay."

"And what happens if we lose this game of yours?" the bald man who had spoken earlier asked defiantly.

"You will be erased," Michael answered simply. "In truth, you have very little to lose here. The Reapers' Game does carry an entry fee, should you choose to play. For this purpose, the Composer has personally reviewed your thoughts, selecting and taking from each of you what he believes you value most. But worry not; as a rule, your entry fee will cannot be something taken from the Realground – the world of the living, that is. Additionally, should you survive the week without your entry fee, it will be returned to you when the Game ends."

"Do we get to know what our entry fee is?" the middle-aged woman sitting on the couch asked.

"You do not. You will not know what your fee is until after the Game is over, assuming you survive," Michael replied. "The terms, and your choices, have been outlined to you. Consider your decision carefully. You have five minutes to think, after which I will need each of your answers."

* * *

As soon as Michael had finished speaking, Celia retreated to the corner of the room. She leaned against the wall, staring listlessly through the window, vaguely wondering whether someone looking up at her could have seen her even if the window had not been tinted. Lost in her thoughts, she barely heard the soft buzz of conversation that began filling the room.

"Interesting. You seem to be feeling far less anger than I would have expected. Less anger, and more… sorrow. Sorrow and disappointment," Michael remarked, unexpectedly joining her.

His words cut deeply, but somehow, Celia could not find it in herself to be angry with the mysterious man. His presence felt oddly familiar, and soothing, in a way. "My friend shot me," Celia whispered, warm tears sliding down her cheek. "I… I don't even know why. I don't know if I want to know why, or how I should feel, or…" She swallowed. "I feel like I don't know anything anymore."

Michael looked at her oddly. Then his expression shone with sudden understanding. "Miss Winter, your friend didn't shoot you. You weren't shot at all."

Celia looked at Michael in confusion. Then she looked down at the newspaper still clenched in her hands, only to find that she could no longer read it through her moistened eyes.

"May I?" Michael asked politely, tugging at the corner of the newspaper. Celia nodded and surrendered the paper to him, and he began to read it quietly aloud. "The missing gunman from Tuesday's fatal shooting on Harrison Street remains at large. Police have been unable to identify the suspect due to contradicting eyewitness reports. 'It's not too unusual,' claims Detective Burton of the Seattle Police Department, who has been assigned to the case. 'Such brutality can be traumatizing, and leave many witnesses unsure as to exactly what they saw. Furthermore, given the circumstances, even those who may have gotten a clear view of the rogue gunman might prefer to remain silent. A few witnesses have even hailed the gunman as a hero of sorts, even while they claim to be unable to place his appearance.'"

"A hero?" Celia murmured, now entirely lost.

"The suspect's victim has been identified as 19-year-old Blake Daniels, a Seattle native and a recent dropout from Washington State University. Eyewitnesses claim that before he was shot, Daniels ran down a young woman, identified as 23-year-old Celia Winter, before stabbing her in the back with a hunting knife. Furthermore, many witnesses claim that the unidentified gunman shouted a warning to Winter and her friend, Karen O'Brien. When questioned, O'Brien claimed not to recognize the gunman, and was unable to offer a detailed recounting of his appearance," Michael read on.

Celia blinked in confusion. Then, as the truth set in, she swallowed uncomfortably. "Blake Daniels…" she whispered, recognizing the name.

"The police have yet to determine why you were attacked, but maybe you already know," Michael said. "If not, you are always welcome to ask him."

Celia's gaze wandered automatically to a smallish man sitting against the wall, for she remembered the dirty looks the others in the room had shot that way when Michael had spoken her name aloud. She immediately recognized the young man sitting there, with his russet brown hair, gangly limbs, and pasty, blotchy complexion.

When Blake saw her looking his way, he turned away quickly, pointedly refusing to meet her gaze.

But Celia's thoughts didn't dwell on Blake for long. It wasn't anger that she felt now, but guilt. She remembered Faith holding onto her, begging her to stay alive. She remembered the feeling of betrayal and revulsion, and the urge she had felt to pull away from him, or to push him as far from her as possible. Was that the last look she had given him, then? A look of utter loathing for her friend, for the man who had gone as far as he humanly could to save her life?

"Have you made your decision?" Michael asked, cutting her thoughts short.

Celia trembled, her misery striking her more acutely than ever. She wanted to believe Faith had understood, to believe she hadn't hurt her friend. She wondered what madness she had found, to believe for even a second that Faith would have wanted to hurt her. "Even… even if I make it back… how can I face him?" she whispered, though she hardly expected Michael to be able to answer.

But Michael did have an answer for her. Rather, he answered her question with another question. "Can you throw away your only chance to try?"

* * *

 _"You know, it doesn't really surprise me that you don't drink the coffee here," Faith said, returning with two cups of iced tea._

 _"Oh? Why is that?" Celia asked._

 _"I've had their coffee exactly once. I'm not entirely sure why anyone would try it a second time," Faith grinned, handing her one of the two drinks._

 _Celia laughed. "I wouldn't know. I'm not much of a coffee drinker, really," she admitted. "But… have you actually had their tea before? It really isn't anything special, either."_

 _"Not yet, but there has to be something nice on their menu, right?" Faith pointed out optimistically. He took a long sip from his straw, then gave his cup a disappointed look. "Something nice somewhere else on the menu," he amended. "I suppose I'll just have to keep looking."_

 _"And that's why I always just order a plain drip coffee," Celia giggled. "It's cheap, I'm not about to drink it anyways, and this way, I don't have to feel bad about taking up one of their seats and using their Wi-Fi."_

 _"Fair enough," Faith conceded._

 _"Here, you wanted to see what I was drawing, right?" Celia said, fumbling with her laptop again until it was angled towards her new friend. "This is just the backdrop. It's going to be a picture of Thor, hence, all the lightning."_

 _"Thor? You mean the Norse god?" Faith asked._

 _"Nah. Thor the movie character slash comic book hero," Celia corrected. "History buffs usually don't commission artworks of their favorite mythological characters, but movie fans do so all the time." When she saw that her new friend was still studying the simple image intently, she began fidgeting anxiously. "What do you think?"_

 _"I'm… surprised," Faith said, pausing for a moment to phrase his thoughts. "This is only meant to be a background? It's quite elaborate. It looks like you drew and shaded each of these waves and each streak of lightning individually."_

 _"I did," Celia admitted readily. "I use my drawing pad to do it by hand. It's my favorite part, since I can always try something a little bit different. See, people usually ask me to draw the same characters again and again. Even when they do ask for someone new, most of the time it's someone who looks like someone else I've drawn before. It starts feeling stale, after a while."_

 _"I guess I can see that," Faith conceded._

 _"Give me a second," Celia said, reaching for her keyboard. "Here's a drawing that I finished last week." She flipped the image to one of a strange, mechanical-looking woman hovering in midair beside a large metallic sphere, with a sprawling metropolis in the background._

 _"Another movie character?" Faith asked curiously._

 _"No, this one's from a computer game," Celia answered. "I can't quite remember her name. Orion, I think? Something like that, anyways. She's from League of Legends."_

 _"Well, she certainly looks unique," Faith remarked. "It looks like she's flying, without wings or anything of the sort. Is that what the ball is for?"_

 _"I have no idea," Celia admitted. "When I looked up the official artwork, there was always a ball of some sort floating nearby, so I thought I'd include one. Some of them showed her hovering, so… well… a few artistic liberties later and this is what you get."_

 _"Someone commissioned this piece, then?" Faith guessed. "How much do you get paid for drawing one of these? If you don't mind me asking, that is."_

 _Celia's face fell. "I didn't get paid anything for this one," she said. "The guy I drew it for, Blake, flipped out. He said there was something wrong with her skin."_

 _Faith seemed puzzled. "Her skin? She's a robot, isn't she?" he asked uncertainly._

 _"That's what I thought," Celia said. "And that guy wouldn't calm down enough to explain what was wrong. When I saw how upset he was, I figured there was no sense in arguing. I tried to apologize, but he just shouted a bunch, stormed out in a huff, then sent me a bunch of angry e-mails afterwards."_

 _"Talk about anger management issues," Faith said, shaking his head. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think it looks quite nice."_

 _"It does. Thanks," Celia said, smiling._

 _"I should probably be going. The guys back at the office are probably expecting me," Faith said, peering at his phone. He rose to leave. "It was nice meeting you, Celia."_

 _"It was nice meeting you, too," Celia replied. "Hey, is your office nearby?"_

 _"It's fairly close," Faith answered. "It's within walking distance, anyways."_

 _"Well, I come by here quite often to meet with my clients," Celia said. "Would you… I mean, if you're interested in seeing more of my drawings, you could drop by any time I'm here."_

 _"I'll do that," Faith nodded. "See you later."_

* * *

The next time Celia awoke, she did so without the slightest hint of drowsiness. In fact, she could hardly remember falling asleep at all. One moment, she had given that mysterious, white-suited man her answer. The next, she had been lost in her memories, at least until she had been roused by the blaring traffic horns and the rumbling of countless automobiles.

"I thought he said something about going underground," Celia groaned, standing and stretching out her limbs, which felt stiff from her lying on the sidewalk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone walking straight towards her. She stepped aside only just in time. "Hey, watch where you're going!" she protested.

But the pedestrian kept walking as if he hadn't heard her, and then someone else stepped straight _through_ her.

Now thoroughly weirded out, Celia moved to the inner edge of the sidewalk, watching as countless people went by, seemingly without noticing her. "They're not really here," she realized. "Or maybe I'm not. Was 'underground' a metaphor, then? Maybe these Reapers are trying to show me just enough of the world to drive me crazy, or something."

Celia stood there pondering her situation for several minutes, until her phone jingled. "They gave me back my phone?" she mused. When she reached into her pocket, she found not only her phone, but her wallet, too.

Unfortunately, she couldn't think of much use for money in a world where no one could see her, and her phone didn't seem to be receiving any signal. Despite that, her phone had somehow received a text message from an unknown number.

* * *

 _Reach the Space Needle. You have 60 minutes. Fail, and face erasure._

 _\- The Reapers_

* * *

"Reapers, huh?" Celia mused. She looked up to the nearest street sign. "The Space Needle is less than a ten minute walk from here," she realized. "If this is what Michael meant by missions, then this might not be so bad after all."

Even as she finished speaking her thoughts aloud, she felt a sting across the palm of her right hand.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. She held up her hand, gasping as elegant silver numbers spread across her palm. She watched, fascinated, as the numbers began to change before her eyes, counting down by seconds from sixty minutes. "Well, this is… unusual," she said, trying to push away the sense of growing unease that accompanied the timer's appearance.

Wondering what else the white-suited man had left her with, Celia reached into her other pocket, and her fingers brushed across two smooth, cold metal discs. She extracted them curiously, for they felt too large and too light to be coins.

They were not coins, but pins. One depicted a bright silver snowflake on a soft gray background, while the other depicted a sleek stylus much like the one she usually used for drawing, set against a pleasant shade of dark green. "I wonder what these are for," Celia said thoughtfully. She first pinned the stylus pin to her shirt, but when it did nothing, save for making her feel exceedingly silly, she took it off. Reluctantly, she tried the other one as well.

A loud chorus of voices assailed her suddenly, and Celia recoiled in shock, shrinking against the building she was standing beside.

"What the heck!?" she exclaimed, fumbling to remove the pin. She had only just unclipped it, though, when the noise was reduced to mere whispers. She looked around her for the source of the noise, her eyes settling on a nearby man, who wore a miserable expression as he walked his small, mangy-looking dog.

"Yeah, yeah. Bark at everyone who passes, why don't you? Seriously, you're fifteen years old. Dogs aren't supposed to live this long, are they? Well, I'm not sure how much it really matters. When you finally bite the dust, Diane will probably just go full weepy-girlfriend mode on me for a couple months, then find you a more annoying replacement. Ugh! Why do I torture myself like this?"

Celia stared at the man, uncomprehending. It was definitely that man's voice, for the voice had grown louder as he approached, softening as he moved past. On the other hand, the man's lips had never once moved throughout his monologue.

Experimentally, Celia looked away, focusing instead on a middle-aged business man. That man's voice seemed to replace the voice she had been hearing.

"Why is it always me who's stuck working with a bunch of idiots? That Johnson's head is so far lost in his code, it's like he doesn't know what a deadline is. Is it really that complicated? It's a line, and if we cross it, our careers are dead. It's that fucking simple! But no, he's always bitching about this, and bitching about that, and when all is said and done, _I'm_ the one left trying to plead my team's case before the bigwigs!"

Having heard enough, Celia tore the pin off in a hurry. She felt a bit dizzy, as if the weight of everything that had happened since her death had fallen upon her all at once, accentuated by the sheer strangeness of the world around her.

"Relax," she instructed herself firmly, trying to stifle her panic. "Breathe. Relaxing includes breathing." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took another, and a third. "Okay. I'm dead, but not really. I got stabbed by some socially inept nutcase with deeply-rooted emotional issues, and if Karen ever gets wind of this, she'll never stop saying 'I told you so.'"

A slight smile tugged at Celia's lips. As always, simply thinking of her best friend made her feel slightly better.

"Better make sure she never finds out," Celia murmured. "In the meantime, I'm still here. What am I, a ghost? I can hear other people's thoughts, too. Or maybe it's the pin. Or maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe all of the above. God, I hope I don't run into Faith right now. I really, really don't need to know what he's thinking right now."

She drew in another deep breath, and this time, she held it for a few seconds before exhaling.

"Okay then. Focus, Celia," she urged herself. "That man in the white suit, Michael, said it would be in our best interest to finish these missions, right?" She peered at her phone again, focusing particularly on the rather grim warning at the end. "Well, I suppose that's our runner-up for understatement of the year, right behind him telling me that I was feeling sad and disappointed."

She read her mission again, worried that perhaps she may have misread it the first time.

"So, to the Space Needle, then. That seems easy enough." She glanced at her palm, feeling a twinge of guilt when she saw that her timer was already down to fifty minutes. She winced. Ten minutes already gone, and she had done little more than stand there playing with pins and talking to herself.

Reasoning that Michael must have left her with the two pins for a reason, Celia pinned both over her chest and began walking. Before long, the persistent buzzing of people's thoughts receded until it was hardly noticeable.

Not long after, the Space Needle came into view. "Forty-two minutes left. See? Plenty of time!" Celia said to herself, with as much cheer as she could muster. She crossed the last intersection, waiting for the light to turn even though she suspected cars couldn't hit her anyways.

When she crossed at last, she walked straight into what felt like a wall of glass. She tumbled backwards, landing painfully on her rear. Dazed, she looked up, only to find that the way still looked clear. After getting to her feet, she reached out tentatively with one hand, pressing it against a smooth, invisible surface of some sort.

"Do you want me to go another way, then?" Celia asked aloud, frustrated. "How am I supposed to know which way?" She looked around her, wondering if perhaps she could find someone else from their little briefing, possibly another Player in similar straits.

Instead, she locked eyes with a slender Japanese man with pale skin, blue jeans, and a bright red hoodie. "Hey, you! Can you see me?" she called.

The man jolted, then looked away in a hurry.

"That's a yes if I've ever heard one," Celia said, refusing to be discouraged. She marched over to the man in the red hoodie. "Hey, are you a Player, too? Or are you part of the Game? C'mon, please don't ignore me…"

"Su…sumimasen!" the man stammered. "Boku wa eigo ga wakarimasen!"

Celia stared at the Japanese man blankly. Then she sighed. "You don't speak English," she guessed. "Just my luck."

"Hello, Celia."

Upon hearing her name spoken aloud, Celia spun around in delight. "Graham!" she exclaimed, immediately recognizing the blond who had spoken to her during the briefing. Graham wasn't alone, either; an athletic man with a ruffled mane of mahogany-brown hair accompanied the blond.

"This is my partner, Jason," Graham introduced.

"Celia? You're that girl who got stabbed for no reason at all, aren't you?" Jason greeted. "I'm sorry to hear about it."

At first, Celia was surprised to hear him speaking so casually of someone being murdered in the streets. Then she remembered that Graham and Jason were Players, too, and realized that they, too, must have met premature and likely gruesome ends. "I'm sure there's a reason… I just doubt it's a good one," Celia mumbled. "What about you? How did you end up here?"

"We're grad students over at the U," Graham explained.

"We were up late working in the lab. Something went wrong. Might have been us, might've been something someone else did," Jason said morosely. "Whatever the cause, it turned a bit… explosive. Maybe if it had been during the day, someone could have gotten us to the hospital in time, but as it was…" he finished with a sigh.

"That's awful," Celia cringed. "This… this is a little weird. You know, talking to people about how they died."

"Isn't it?" Jason chuckled. "Then again, that's where conversations ought to start, don't you think? Finding some common ground?"

"That common ground is six feet up from us," Graham added morbidly, rolling his eyes. "I wonder if that's why they call this place the Underground."

Graham's grim words left Celia feeling quite uncomfortable. Not wanting to talk about death any longer, she tried to change the subject. "Did you two get the same mission? To reach the Space Needle?"

"Sure did," Graham confirmed.

"There's like an invisible wall here or something," Celia said. As if to prove her point, she reached out to touch the barrier once more. "Do you two have any idea how we're supposed to get past it? I'm pretty sure the guy in the red hoodie knows, but he doesn't seem to speak English."

All three of them turned to the Japanese man in the red hoodie, who seemed to be studying the three of them. When he saw the Players looking his way, he looked away again.

"Well, if we can't communicate with him, he's not much use to us," Graham said with a shrug. He reached out and past the point where Celia had been stopped. "Doesn't seem like there's a wall now, though. C'mon, Jason." He and Jason stepped straight through where the barrier had been, seemingly without any trouble.

Celia tried to follow them, but again, she found herself stopped. "Okay, this is stupid," she protested. "How come you two can walk straight through, but I can't?"

"Remember what Michael said about choosing a partner? Maybe you have to have a partner to get through," Graham guessed.

"Oh… right," Celia said, racking her mind furiously, trying to remember everything the mysterious, beautiful blond man had told them.

"You've still got plenty of time," Jason said. "You should walk around a bit, and see if you can find another Player who's still looking for a partner."

"Good idea. Thanks," Celia said absently. She waved farewell to the two of them and watched as they proceeded towards the base of their towering destination.

* * *

Celia wandered aimlessly through the ever-moving throng, looking back and forth, hoping to catch sight of another Player doing the same. "I should've chosen a more memorable outfit this morning," she thought aloud. "Or that morning, I suppose. Or… are these even the clothes I was wearing when I died?" She stared down at her plain, dark green shirt and her rosy brown skirt. "Yeah, I think they are."

Realizing that she was only wasting her limited time, Celia turned her attention back to the crowd once more. Before she could resume her search, a mysterious, monotonous drone rang out abruptly and seemed to fill the air around her. At first, Celia thought it was her snowflake pin again, but this time, the strange buzzing didn't form any discernible words, or even syllables.

Then she heard a howling noise, akin to that of a wolf. When no one around her seemed to have noticed the commotion, Celia grew nervous. She looked towards the noise, and spotted an unusual flicker on the other side of a nearby crowd of pedestrians. Without consciously thinking about it, she began moving away, though she kept looking back nervously.

Then a violet blur burst through the crowd, coming to a rest before her. It resembled a life-sized, graffiti drawing of a husky, drawn in thick, bold lines with empty space between them. It looked weirdly two-dimensional, as if it had been cut from paper. Unfortunately, unlike graffiti art, the creature looked very much alive.

And unlike the huskies people generally kept as pets, the creature looked feral. It inched closer to Celia with its jaw wide open and a ravenous look in its glowing red eyes, trembling in anticipation.

Celia began backing away, waving at the creature in an attempt to shoo it away. "Down, boy! Down!" she ordered, her voice cracking feebly halfway through. The creature stalked closer still, taking no note of her protests.

Realizing she couldn't outrun her attacker and unsure of what else she could do, Celia looked down at her two pins. As her attention honed in on the snowflake pin, she heard a comforting voice, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Trance Hound. These agile and ferocious Noise canines favor headlong tackles. They frequently travel in packs."

It was Michael's voice, Celia knew. Feeling newly hopeful, she began searching around her for any sign of the white-suited man, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The creature howled again, drawing Celia's attention back to it. Then the beast crouched, its ears lying flat against its head, before springing forward viciously. With a shriek, Celia dove aside and into the middle of the street, scraping her knees painfully against the asphalt.

Ignoring the stinging cuts, Celia pulled herself to her feet and ran. Afraid to look back, she continued sprinting as fast as she could, trying to ignore the constant barking behind her as it grew steadily louder.

Something heavy slammed into her from behind, knocking her off her feet. She fell forward, face first, catching herself only just in time and scraping up her palms in the process. Then something sharp tore into her right shoulder. She screamed and flailed wildly as a burning sensation coursed through her entire arm and along her back.

Her thrashing had dislodged her attacker, at least. The hound soared over her, landing lightly on all fours. It turned and growled again, the jet-black lines comprising its jaw stained crimson and dripping with blood.

Celia's felt her right arm going numb, and she barely had the strength to rise once more, let alone the will to try. She shot the approaching creature a defeated look, for she knew she could not hope to escape it.

Something then whistled through the air, and Celia looked up in time to see an arrow soaring past her, embedding itself neatly in the hound's eye.

The creature wailed in pain, then became translucent. Two women then raced past Celia, and like the creature they battled, they, too, appeared to be insubstantial. One of the two, a lithe brunette teen, gestured with her hand, presenting a small, metallic object. A silver hued compound bow appeared at her side, firing another gold-fletched arrow at the hound.

Celia gasped as the hound somehow split itself in two, but the other two women seemed to be more than prepared. Each turned their attention to one of the hounds. The brunette sent a third arrow into one of them, while her partner, a black-haired Korean woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties, conjured a throwing knife out of thin air, flipping it neatly into the other hound's flank.

The hound cried out again and disappeared. Once it was gone, the two women seemed to become solid once more. "Hey! Celia, right? Are you okay?" the brunette asked, running to Celia's side and offering her a hand.

"I… I think so," Celia said gratefully. "Thank you, umm…"

"Laura," the brunette offered. "Laura Christianson. And this is my partner, Mrs. Lee."

"Just call me Vivian," the Korean woman interrupted. She seemed fixated on Celia's torn and bleeding shoulder, her expression tinged with sympathy. "Here. Try this," she said, offering Celia another pin, one depicting the caduceus.

"What is it?" Celia asked, making no move for it.

"It's a pin. Mrs. Lee – I mean, Vivian, I don't think it'll help her," Laura said, shaking her head mournfully. "Our pins didn't start working until we partnered up, remember? Other than the Player pins."

"Player pin?" Celia echoed. She looked down at her own two pins. "You mean the one with the snowflake?"

"That's the one," Laura confirmed. "Vivian and I ran into one of the Reapers earlier, who told us a bit more about the Game. Every Player gets one of those snowflake pins, but it won't help you much against the Noise."

"That dog that was chasing you was a Noise," Vivian explained kindly, when she saw Celia's blank look. "Your other pins are supposed to help you against them, but mine didn't work until I forged a pact with Laura here."

"What do they do?" Celia asked. She began reaching for her stylus pin, but her arm blazed with agony as she did, cutting her motion short.

"They all seem to be different," Laura answered. "I only got one, which somehow brings me the bow I use while hunting with my dad."

"This one mends wounds," Vivian said, presenting the caduceus pin again. "I have another that creates a knife for me to throw."

"So, one of the Reapers told you about the pins and the Noise? Like, one of the Reapers who sent us our mission?" Celia asked.

"That's what he called himself," Vivian said, wrinkling her nose. "He looked like a pretty ordinary guy, honestly, only he had a pair of spiky black wings. It looked almost like a shoddy Halloween costume."

"Well, does that mean they're trying to help us, at least?" Celia reasoned hopefully.

Laura laughed scornfully. "If only. The moment he finished answering our questions, he told us that his job was to erase us. Then he called up half a dozen of those Noise creatures." She shook her head disappointedly. "Turns out the only people who know what's going on in this messed up afterlife are the people trying to off us a second time. It's bullshit," she complained.

"We don't have time to stand here whining," Vivian scolded her gently. "We only have half an hour left." She turned to Celia. "Celia, you should head down that way," she suggested, gesturing in the direction opposite of the Space Needle. "On our way here, we passed several other Players who were still looking for partners."

"Okay. Thanks again," Celia said tiredly.

"Good luck!" Laura called, before she and Vivian set off towards the Space Needle.

Left alone once more and with no better options than the one Laura and Vivian had offered, Celia reluctantly began walking in the opposite direction, painfully aware that each step was carrying her farther away from her destination.

* * *

Celia continued on slowly, growing disheartened as she crossed block after block without any sign of the other Players Laura and Vivian had mentioned. He arm continued to throb painfully, and the timer on her palm, somehow unblemished despite the jagged cuts she had sustained, continued to tick down. "This was a terrible mistake," she whispered miserably, unable to keep herself from thinking of the countless fables and myths regaling the consequences of trying to cheat death. "Maybe it's not worth fighting, after all…"

A familiar howl split the air. Recognizing the sound, Celia gave a resigned sigh. "Not that I could fight, even if I wanted to," she thought aloud. She turned and looked in the direction of the sound, knowing and accepting what was to come.

Sure enough, there was another Noise, identical to the first violet, hound-like creature Celia had encountered, sprinting in her direction with astounding speed.

"Faith… I'm sorry," Celia whispered, tightly closing her eyes.

"You fucking retard! Quit running and forge a pact with me! I'm trying to save both our lives here!"

Celia's eyes snapped open, for the voice seemed vaguely familiar. To her surprise, the Noise she had spotted wasn't after her at all. Instead, it was nipping at the heels of a familiar, short, bald man who Celia immediately recognized as another Player.

As Celia watched, the bald man turned and shouted back to someone who, oddly enough, was running in pursuit of the Noise. "To hell with you, kid!"

"Quick, over here!" Celia cried, waving to the bald man. The bald man saw her, and a look of immense relief crossed his face.

Then his relief became horror, and he let out a strangled cry as the pursuing Trance Hound pounced upon him. Celia found herself unable to watch as the man's cries grew hoarser, then stopped entirely.

The Noise let out a triumphant howl, and finally, Celia looked up. The bald man was nowhere in sight, and the hound had turned to face its pursuer, a small, gangly youth with russet brown hair. Stunned, Celia stood perfectly still as she laid eyes upon her murderer.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Blake groaned, noticing Celia, but deliberately refusing to meet her gaze. He turned and fled the other way, but Celia knew he that the teen could not escape. She knew that she was about to watch her murderer die a second death, and that this time, it would be a horrible, gruesome death.

She swallowed, understanding what she had to do. Even though she had never been a particularly vindictive person, the mere thought of making her murderer her partner repulsed her. Unfortunately, her hopes of finding a partner were growing slimmer with each passing second.

"Blake! Forge a pact with me!" she cried, echoing his earlier words to the bald man.

Blake stared at her incredulously.

"Do it!" Celia ordered. "Do it now, or we're both going to die here!"

The Noise pounced at Blake, who turned sharply. The gangly youth narrowly slipped past the deadly creature, then barreled towards Celia.

As he approached, Celia felt a murky presence calling to her. There was a flash of light. Then it was done, she knew, though she knew not how she knew.

* * *

Trusting in Laura and Vivian's words, Celia took her stylus pin in her left hand and moved to stand at Blake's side. But Blake disappeared entirely, as did everyone else on the street, leaving her to facing the Noise alone in the empty intersection. "What!?" Celia gasped.

The Noise pounced, giving Celia only a split second to react. She slashed her left arm forward, unsure of how to use the pin, but wanting nothing more than to keep the hound at bay.

A large black stylus appeared before her, and with a quick swipe, it drew a brick wall before her that immediately became solid. The Trance Hound gave a pained yelp as it slammed headfirst into the wall.

"Did I do that?" Celia whispered, awed.

The lines forming the wall immediately began to fade and blur. A few short seconds later, it disappeared, revealing the disheveled Noise standing behind it. The hound growled, then surged forward again.

Remembering how Blake had avoided the hound's charge, Celia rushed to the side. She gestured frantically with her pin, while desperately trying to think of something that could scare the hound off. "Fire," she whispered unconsciously, imagining a forest's denizens fleeing as a blazing wildfire swept through the thickly tangled trees.

The stylus Celia had summoned flew behind her, swirling wildly, leaving a trail of red in the wake of its tip. She felt a rush of wind, too, as behind her, the Noise missed its pounce.

Celia spun, mentally guiding her stylus to strike at the creature. The red lines burst into vivid flames, and the illuminated stylus stabbed fiercely at the hound. The wounded Noise squealed in agony as the flames took hold of its fur. A moment later, the creature stopped thrashing and collapsed limply. The lines shaping it began to dissolve into a black-and-white mess that resembled static.

Then the Noise was simply gone, and Blake reappeared by Celia's side, panting for breath.

* * *

Celia stared at Blake, unsure of what to say.

Blake looked up and matched her stare with a sullen look of his own, and like her, he said nothing.

Finally, when the silence began to feel unbearably suffocating, Celia forced herself to speak. They were partners now, after all, and given her recent lack of luck, the process was probably irreversible. "Hello, Blake," she said.

Blake rolled his eyes and looked away.

"We should hurry," Celia went on, holding up her palm. The timer indicated that only fifteen minutes remained. "If we run, we can still make it in time."

Again, Blake said nothing.

Celia scowled. "Fine. You stay here then, if you want," she said, losing her patience. She started to run, ignoring her right arm's painful protests as it swung beside her. After traveling two blocks, she looked behind her, and saw that Blake was indeed following her, albeit with a reluctant look on his face. Shaking her head in exasperation, she continued on without another word.

* * *

When Celia neared where she remembered the invisible wall to be, she slowed, searching for the Japanese man in the red hoodie. Their eyes met for a brief second, then the man looked away again.

Celia looked down at her palm. "Five minutes left… this had better work," she muttered to herself.

"What had better work?" Blake asked, the first words he had spoken to her since their battle with the Noise.

"There was a wall here earlier. It let Graham and his partner through, but not me. Graham guessed that only someone with a partner could get through," Celia explained impassively. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to scream at her new partner, but they simply didn't have the time for it.

"Oh yeah, that makes sense," Blake sneered. "An invisible wall that somehow knows if you have a partner? Get real!" He strolled on through, crossing without trouble just as Graham and Jason had.

Celia took a deep breath and followed, and to her relief, she passed through unobstructed, too. She glanced back at the man in the red hoodie, and let out a startled gasp. The man had started walking away, and a pair of distinctive, jet-black wings adorned his back. The wings faded from sight, and a moment later, it was as if they had never been there at all. "So… he was a Reaper, too," Celia whispered.

With only four minutes left on their timer, Celia set her countless questions aside, and began marching towards the Space Needle at a brisk rate. She caught up to Blake quickly, staring at her timer all the while. When they approached the tower's front door, the timer faded away without a trace.

Most of the other Players who had made it were scattered across the nearby lawn, but Graham and Jason were waiting at the doorway. Graham waved at Celia when he saw her, but when he saw Blake, his eyes went wide with shock. "You partnered yourself with _him_?" he gasped.

Blake's eyes flashed, but before he could launch himself into an angry retort, Celia spoke up.

"Yeah. I needed a partner, and so did he. We're all in this together now, right?" she said reasonably, doing her best to hide her own anger. She wasn't entirely certain what challenges laid ahead of them, but she did know that she couldn't face them while simultaneously struggling with her own partner. Though it didn't make the thought of teaming up with her murderer any more inviting, she knew she had to try.

But Blake was determined to make it as difficult as possible, it seemed. "Says you," he spat.

"Why, you little…" Jason hissed. He stepped forward and seized Blake by the collar of his shirt. "Apologize to her, you ungrateful son of a…"

"Make me!" Blake scoffed, throwing a feeble punch at Jason.

Jason leaned away from the blow, then hurled Blake backward against the ground.

"Jason!" Celia interrupted. "It's alright," she insisted, when he turned to look at her. "Let me talk to him."

Jason took a deep breath and stepped away. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said, glaring at Blake. "I suppose you're stuck with the little psychopath now." He stalked away angrily, with Graham following close behind, the latter pausing only to shoot Celia and apologetic look.

Once alone, Celia rounded upon her new partner, her composure finally slipping. "What's your problem, Blake?" she demanded.

"Oh, I don't know," Blake drawled. "Could it be the fact that your fucking boyfriend shot me?"

Celia stared at him, speechless.

"Or maybe it's because you found one of the cushiest jobs in the universe, and you couldn't even get that right," Blake sneered. "If you had just done your fucking job, neither of us would be here right now!"

"Let me get this straight," Celia said, trying her best to keep her indignation from boiling over. "Are you trying to saying it's _my_ fault that _you_ stabbed me in the back, right in the middle of the street, and got yourself shot for it?"

"Call it whatever you want, you autistic bitch," Blake said indifferently, looking away.

It took every ounce of self-restraint Celia had to keep herself from leaping forward and strangling her partner then and there. Even with the knowledge that such an act would lead to her own death, the temptation was nearly irresistible.

She looked away, unable to stand the sight of the insufferable teen any longer. "Fine," she said shortly. "I'm sorry. I messed up, and that got us both into this mess. Now we're stuck with each other. I know it isn't fair, but if we want to make it out alive, we'll have to work together. Will you help me, please?" She did her best to keep any hint of sarcasm out of her voice, but was quite certain that she had failed dismally.

"Whatever," Blake muttered, looking away once more.

"Thank you," Celia said stiffly. Then, unable to hold in her frustration any longer, she stormed away quickly, marching around the corner so that she could be alone.

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this, Faith," Celia whispered, her face buried in her arms. Her wounded shoulder continued to sting, but in her broken state, she hardly noticed the pain. "I don't… just… I can't…" Unable to string her thoughts coherently, she dissolved into sobs, tears falling freely to mix with the grime and blood on her arms.

She cried as she hadn't cried in years, for any seeds of hope Michael had given her refused to sprout, and simply laid before her mind's eye, cold and dead.

Then she imagined others approaching her. Not just Faith, but her father, and Karen, too. They stood there, just out of reach, as if they could not go to her but were waiting for her to go to them instead. She thought she could hear Karen and her father calling to her, begging her to return to them.

Then she heard Faith's voice again, clearly as she had in her final moments.

"It's going to be alright. I promise, C. Everything's going to be alright."

With that thought hanging at the forefront of her mind, Celia roughly wiped her tears away with her sleeve. "Alright. I believe you. I'm not going to give up," she promised wearily. "I'll keep trying. Just… wait for me."

The world steadily grew darker as she spoke to herself, and feeling terribly exhausted, Celia put her face down once more, resting her head against her arms until sleep claimed her.

* * *

 _I can't believe this isn't a dream,_

 _My lucent orb is fading bright,_

 _I can't believe it was a dream,_

 _So hard to reignite myself..._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Hybrid.**

 **"Sumimasen, boku wa eigo ga wakarimasen" roughly means "Sorry, I don't understand English."**


	4. Day Two: Wavering Notes

**~ Day Two ~**

 **Wavering Notes**

* * *

 _Every day, the streets are crowded with people,_

 _Every night, the streets are jammed with these noises,_

 _Things are so strange… are they real, or a dream?_

 _Where am I now, trapped in this city of illusion?_

* * *

 _"I think this one might just be my favorite," Faith mused._

 _"Really?" Celia asked, glancing at the painting in an effort to disguise her relief._

 _Unlike most of the other works Celia had shown her new friend, this particular piece had been done painstakingly by hand with pastels. It was her oldest and most precious work; she had kept the original with her over the years, which remained safely tucked away in her closet at home. Only Karen had ever seen it before, until now, when Celia had finally worked up the courage to show it to another._

 _"Really," Faith said seriously, nodding. "There's something about it that's… different. Besides the style, I mean," he said. He scanned the artwork carefully, a depiction of a young woman and little girl playing in a field of flowers, set against the sunset. "I'm not sure what it is, but this piece feels very… emotional," he said, trying to find the right word to describe it. "It looks so simple in a way, and almost cartoonish."_

 _"I know," Celia admitted. "I drew this when I was first starting out. I wasn't very good back then."_

 _"But you must have spent countless hours on this," Faith observed. "Each flower in the picture is just a little bit different. Every petal is perfectly outlined, and every stretch of grass carefully shaded. It's like this was a real place, and you sat there for hours, recording every last detail you could find." Then he paused and shook his head. "No… it feels more real than that, somehow. It's like you drew this from a memory, or a dream, even, filling in every detail you couldn't remember exactly the way you wished it had been."_

 _A reluctant smile tugged at Celia's lips. "That's pretty closed to what happened," she said. She looked at the painting again, and as she stared at the woman kneeling in the center of the meadow beside the little girl, she felt a lump welling in her throat._

 _"Are you alright, C?"_

 _Celia looked up to see Faith studying her intently, a concerned expression on his face._

 _"Me? I'm fine," Celia said, forcing herself to smile. "I'm just glad you like this one. It's one of my favorites, too."_

 _"Is it now?" Faith murmured curiously, measuring her reaction. He then looked back at the painting, and his eyes seemed to shine with understanding. "Of course. That's you in the picture, isn't it?" he guessed tentatively, indicating the little girl._

 _Celia gently rocked back and forth in her seat. All of a sudden, she began to wonder whether she had truly been ready to show this particular painting to her new friend. She had assured herself that there would be no harm in it, for few would have seen any deeper meaning in the simple pastel drawing of a ten-year-old girl._

 _Yet part of her must have yearned for Faith to see exactly what he had seen, Celia knew. Again and again, Faith had demonstrated the uncanny ability to see almost exactly what Celia herself saw in almost every one of her artworks._

 _"This is a picture of my mother and me," Celia explained quietly. "She fell ill when I was only six. For years, Dad and I would visit her in the hospital every weekend. Then, one day, not long after I turned ten, she finally came home. She always promised me that we'd go to the park together when she was better, so that's what we did. It was a beautiful spring day, and the flowers were in full bloom. I had spent years dreaming of that day, and still, it was more wonderful than I could have imagined."_

 _Faith's expression grew somber, and Celia knew that her friend already understood where her story would end._

 _"That was the last time I spoke with her," Celia went on in the same hushed, reverent tone. "She collapsed the very next day, and we had to rush her back to the hospital. The day after that, she was gone. Dad had been born here, in Washington, but after Mom passed, he didn't want to stay here any longer. He brought me up to Canada instead, to Vancouver where Mom's family live and where she is now. That's when I drew this. That's when I decided I wanted to become an artist one day. Even then, I knew that I'd want to remember that day forever. I knew that I'd want to be able to see every detail again, including those that were already beginning to fade. I hoped, too, that I would one day have other memories like it."_

 _"That's a surprisingly bright way to look at it," Faith said thoughtfully._

 _"Oh, I know it's odd," Celia admitted readily. "But you understand, don't you?"_

 _"I... I think so," Faith said slowly. "I can't say for sure. None of my memories pop out at me the same way. Still, looking at this drawing, it all makes sense somehow."_

 _"Well, that's good enough for me," Celia said smiling warmly. "You know, even though I've kept this drawing with me all these years, I've only shown it to one other person before. I think most people would only see an ordinary scribble from a little girl's imagination. Dad would understand, but I couldn't show it to him then, and now… well, I'd feel silly showing it to him now. I've only ever showed it to Karen, my roommate. She moved from Washington to Vancouver at about the same time I did, since her parents were struggling to find work here. We met in school and became best friends overnight, pretty much. We even decided to move back here together for college, and have been living together ever since."_

 _"You two are that close, huh?" Faith said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it makes sense that you've showed her something so personal. I'm surprised you'd show it to someone you hardly know, though."_

 _"Me too. But hey, I knew you well enough to know you'd appreciate it, right?" Celia shrugged. "That's good enough for me. Anyways, thanks for listening to me ramble."_

 _"Any time. It beats loafing around in the office, after all," Faith grinned. "Speaking of which, I really ought to be getting back. See you tomorrow?"_

 _Celia nodded. "See you tomorrow," she promised._

* * *

When Celia came to consciousness once more, she found herself lying in the grassy field, a short distance away from where she vaguely remembered blacking out. Every inch of her body seemed to ache, as if reminding her of the previous day's exertions.

For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep. Then she thought of the trials ahead of her still, and of how her own partner could easily be the most frustrating and insurmountable one of the lot, and the urge to give in redoubled.

She forced herself to her feet instead, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain in her arm. "I promised I wouldn't give up," she reminded herself quietly. Once standing, she took a good look around her. Of the other Players who had been gathered around the Space Needle the day before, only Blake remained, who stared at her sulkily from where he was sitting atop the wet grass.

Ignoring him for the time being, Celia retrieved her phone, wondering if the day's mission had already arrived. When she saw that it hadn't, her attention turned to her shoulder wound instead. She saw that her bloodied and torn shirt had dried, clinging unpleasantly to the jagged cut. Gritting her teeth, she peeled the strips of shredded fabric back slowly, wincing in pain.

Only then did Celia realize she couldn't do much about the wound, or her ruined shirt, for that matter. "I really should've tracked down Vivian yesterday and asked to borrow her pin," she lamented. She glanced at Blake, and another possibility occurred to her. Approaching him was quite a daunting task in itself, but she knew she'd have to try sooner or later. "Good morning, Blake," she said as pleasantly as she could manage.

Blake frowned, then looked down at his knees. "Morning," he muttered.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a first-aid pin of some sort, would you?" Celia asked. "My arm's killing me."

"Nope," Blake said, without looking up.

"Oh well," Celia said, trying not to feel too discouraged. "One of the other Players had one yesterday, but I don't know when I'll see her again. What sort of pins do you have?"

"The sort that blows shit up," Blake answered brusquely.

"Ah. That should come in handy if we have to fight more of those Noise things," Celia said, forcing herself to sound as optimistic as she could.

Her phone jingled then, as did Blake's. Thankful for the excuse to break off the conversation, Celia retrieved her phone and opened her latest text.

* * *

 _Leave no escape for the piece that is never captured. You have 240 minutes. Fail, and face erasure._

 _\- The Reapers_

* * *

Celia looked down at her palm, expecting the stinging sensation this time. The timer appeared again, and the silver numbers began counting down from four hours. "If they're giving us four hours, this must be a longer mission," Celia reasoned.

Blake grunted noncommittally.

"Or maybe they're just giving us some time to solve this riddle," Celia guessed. "Do you have any idea what it means?"

"Why should I?" Blake demanded.

"Sorry. I just thought I'd ask," Celia said, biting back an angry retort. "Let's look around and see if the Reapers left us any hints or something."

"Fine," Blake said indifferently.

Still, Celia wasn't too disheartened. In her mind, at the very least they were making _some_ progress. "Let's go, then."

* * *

Celia led the way, wandering along the busy streets with Blake following her grudgingly. They traveled several blocks in this fashion, without a clear destination in mind. Deciding not to push her luck too far, Celia didn't attempt to make any further conversation with her partner, and the two of them plodded on in silence.

Before long, Celia found herself glancing wistfully at the other pedestrians, all of who were painfully unaware of their presence. It was strange, walking along the busy city streets, yet feeling completely alone in the world. At one point, she tried focusing on her Player pin, allowing herself to listen in on the thoughts of those around her. She dismissed that idea quickly, for listening in on the internal monologues of those around her didn't seem to quell her loneliness, and the mental intrusions felt horribly improper.

Then there was a loud, high-pitched cry, and when no one around her reacted to it, Celia knew that it had to be someone with them in the Underground.

When he saw Celia craning her head in an effort to follow the sound, Blake gestured impatiently at the intersection ahead of them. "It came from down there, to the right," he said impatiently.

Celia nodded. "Thanks," she said, then started off that way.

"Hold on, are you stupid or something?" Blake interrupted. "That sounded like someone screaming. Why the hell would we go that way ourselves?"

"Because we don't have anywhere else to go," Celia replied evenly. "We only have four hours, which isn't even enough for us to cover a tenth of the city on foot. We have to start searching somewhere."

"So you want to start our search where other Players are getting erased?" Blake asked incredulously.

"I know it's not a perfect plan," Celia admitted. "But I can't think of anything else. Besides, if it really is other Players who are in trouble, maybe we can help them and then work together with them on our mission."

"Unless we have different missions, or we're competing with them to finish it," Blake pointed out.

"True," Celia conceded. "What do you think we should do, then?"

Blake sighed. "How should I know? Fine, then. Let's get involved, and if we get into a fight, just stay out of it like last time. I doubt you're any good in a fight with your arm messed up."

"Stay out of it like last time?" Celia asked, surprised. "I thought you were…"

Another scream rang out, cutting her short. This time, the sound was far more distinct, and seemed to come from much closer. "Never mind, we'll sort that out later," Celia said quickly. She then set off in a slow jog, doing her best to keep her right arm from swinging too much.

* * *

Celia and Blake rounded the corner in a hurry, and found the source of the screams almost immediately. Halfway down the block, two Players had been pinned down by eight Noise hounds, identical to the ones from the day before. One of the two was a middle-aged woman who Celia recognized as the woman that had been sitting on the couch during their briefing, while the other was a younger man who she couldn't quite place.

"Trance Hounds," Celia mumbled, remembering the name by which her Player pin had called the Noise.

"What?" Blake asked her blankly.

"Never mind," Celia said quickly, knowing that she didn't have time to explain. She unclipped her stylus pin, and moved to join the battle. But even as she began approaching the nearest Noise, she saw, to her horror, that she and Blake were already too late.

One of the Trance Hounds had managed to slip around the middle-aged woman. It pounced upon her from behind, clamping its jaw down upon her neck as she collapsed. She screamed, then went silent. Abruptly, her partner collapsed to the ground, too. Both Players faded from sight, and the eight hounds seemed to merge into four.

The Noise then promptly rounded upon Celia and Blake.

This time, Celia knew better than to try to run, especially now that she was no longer entirely defenseless. She stood her ground, holding up her stylus pin in her left hand. The oblivious pedestrians, the cars on the road, and Blake all disappeared, leaving her facing the four Noise alone.

The large, floating stylus appeared at her side, and she began picturing the flames she had used to destroy the Noise the day before. She stopped almost immediately, though, realizing she could not hope to avoid the four Noise long enough to erase them one at a time. Instead, she imagined the wildfire once more, and focused this time on the trees.

Her stylus danced ahead of her, drawing several jagged lines. As the hounds surged forward, desiccated trees sprouted from the asphalt below, trapping them in a makeshift prison. The pack of Noise howled and whimpered, but Celia only concentrated on her stylus, adding more winding, knotted branches to the prison.

"Fuel the flames and watch them burn," Celia whispered to herself, willing her stylus to ignite.

Her blazing stylus plunged into the dense and dry overgrowth like a spear. Hungering flames roared forth, devouring the offered prison and the captured Noise within it.

* * *

As the Noise faded from sight, the others on the street reappeared, as did Blake, who looked thoroughly perplexed. "What… what just happened?"

Celia considered her answer carefully. "You tell me," she finally said, for while she had a vague idea of what was happening, she wanted to know what Blake had seen, too.

"The Noise came after me, and you disappeared," Blake said. "I hit one of them pretty hard, and then all of them just sort of faded away."

"How many were you fighting? And how many did you see earlier when they were attacking the other two Players?" Celia pressed.

Blake eyed her strangely. "There were eight earlier. Then they combined into four," he finally answered.

Celia nodded, for it more or less confirmed her theory. "Blake, when the Noise were attacking the other two Players, did you see how they were all partially transparent? Both the Noise _and_ the Players?"

Blake nodded silently.

"I think… there were really only four Noise," Celia began hesitantly. "Yesterday, when we fought that Noise, I couldn't see you at all. The same thing happened just now, too. When we get attacked, I think we have to fight them on our own."

"So when we see other people fighting Noise, we're really watching two fights at once," Blake said, catching on quickly. "But then, why did the Noise I was fighting just disappear?"

"Because we're still fighting the same Noise," Celia guessed. "I trapped all four of the Noise in a fire. Since I erased them, they disappeared from your fight, too."

Blake looked at her skeptically. " _You_ erased them?" he asked disbelievingly.

"I think so," Celia said. "I must have erased three of the Trance Hounds, at the very least, if you were only attacking one of them."

Blake narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Trance Hounds? How do you know what they're called?" he demanded.

"Focus on your Player pin and the Noise, and the pin will tell you," Celia explained.

"My what?"

"Your snowflake pin. I think everyone was given one of those," Celia said. "I spoke with some other Players yesterday. They said one of the Reapers called them Player pins. If you put it on, it tells you more about the Noise. Also, you can sort of hear people's thoughts."

Blake gasped. "You can read my mind?" he asked, horrified.

Celia frowned, for it had only just occurred to her that she had never heard the thoughts of another Player. "I don't think so. I think it only works on living people and Noise. When I used it on the Noise yesterday, I heard Michael's voice, but I didn't see him anywhere nearby."

Blake seemed oddly relieved. "So, these Reapers know more about the Game, huh?"

"Yeah, but Laura and Vivian said the Reaper who spoke with them tried to erase them once they were done talking," Celia cautioned. "I don't know if asking the Reapers for help is such a good idea."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking about _asking_ ," Blake said, grinning wickedly. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pin, flipping it casually through the air.

"That's not a good idea."

Celia and Blake both turned to see Graham approaching them, Jason following in his wake.

"Reapers are supposed to be a lot more powerful than Players, but they generally aren't allowed to attack us directly," Graham explained.

"The worst they can do is throw Noise at you, and there seems to be limits on that, too," Jason added. "But Players aren't supposed to attack Reapers, either. If you decide to attack one, all of those rules will go straight out the window, I reckon."

"Leave the Reapers alone, and… well, they won't necessarily leave you alone, but you get the idea," Graham summarized.

"Oh, that's reassuring," Blake grumbled.

"Thanks for the heads up," Celia said.

"No problem," Graham replied. He frowned, noticing the large tear in Celia's shirt, and the prominent gash exposed beneath it. "You really should get that cleaned up," he remarked. "I'm not sure if our wounds can get infected while we're in the Underground, but there's no reason to risk it. Besides, it can't be comfortable."

"I know," Celia said, tugging at her damaged clothing. "But I can't exactly just walk into a store and buy a first-aid kit when no one can see us."

"Actually…" Graham began, but before he could say anything more, Celia suddenly clapped one hand over her forehead.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" she exclaimed, retrieving her pin. Her magical stylus came to her side and began to draw, as she imagined a first-aid kit laden with bandages. When her drawing was complete, the lines solidified, and a red satchel decorated with the traditional first-aid icon plopped to the ground.

"Is that your psych?" Jason asked, impressed. "That's pretty badass."

"Psych?" Celia asked. She knelt down and opened the kit, mentally crossing her fingers. She smiled, immensely relieved, when the sight of reels of linen and tubes of various ointments greeted her.

"That's what the Reapers call our pins' abilities," Graham explained. "Every Player gets different pins, and not everyone can use every pin. I was only given one pin myself, which Jason couldn't use. I tried using his pins, too, and only one of them worked for me."

"I see," Celia said thoughtfully, though privately, she wondered how much use the information would be. With only one pin, she wasn't about to lend it to anyone, and she suspected her partner wasn't big on sharing. She began fumbling with one of the bandages, trying awkwardly to stretch it over her own shoulder.

"Do you need a hand?" Jason offered politely.

"Would you? Thanks," Celia said gratefully, as Jason knelt down beside her, gingerly binding the wound. "So, what do you guys make of today's mission?"

"It's not what I expected, that's for sure," Graham said. "Jason and I thought it might have something do with chess, since in a game of chess, the king is never taken."

"The riddle said not to leave that piece any escape, right? That's literally what a checkmate is," Jason explained. He tightened the last bandage, causing Celia to flinch. "There you go. How does that feel?"

"Better. Thanks again, Jason," Celia said. Then, as she began considering their mission again, her expression became a thoughtful frown. "If your guess is right, the mission is just asking us to win a specific game of chess, isn't it? Do you think it could have something to do with that giant chessboard in Pioneer Square?"

Graham and Jason exchanged surprised looks.

"I can't believe we didn't think of that ourselves," Graham lamented.

"It makes perfect sense," Jason agreed. "That old neighborhood is practically a tourist attraction in itself, these days; I'm sure the Reapers were expecting that we'd know of it."

"And that giant chessboard is lying in plain view, at the side of the street," Graham added.

"Then that's probably our mission," Jason said. "All we need to do is get to that chessboard and beat the Reaper there at a game of chess."

"Or play against and defeat another Player," Blake pointed out, joining the conversation at last.

"Maybe," Graham conceded, though he didn't seem convinced.

"Why don't we just head over there now and take a look?" Celia suggested. "It's no use standing here guessing; we don't even know for sure whether or not that's really the right chessboard."

"Or whether the riddle is actually about chess at all, for that matter," Graham agreed. "To Pioneer Square, then."

* * *

"Alright, here we are," Graham declared, when the Seattle City Hall came into sight. "Jason, which way is it to the giant chessboard?"

"No idea," Jason frowned. "Is it down at the City Hall Park, maybe?"

Graham turned to Celia instead. "Celia, do you know where that chessboard is?" he asked hopefully. Only then did he realize that Celia wasn't really following their conversation anymore. "Celia?"

"Guys, I don't think we'll be needing that giant chessboard," Celia said uneasily. "Look over there, down by James Street."

There was a strange sculpture ahead of them, standing at the center of the intersection Celia had indicated. The statue was fully ten feet in height, tall and large enough to be clearly visible from where they stood over a hundred feet away. It was shaped like an armored medieval soldier, complete with a classical European broadsword and kite shield. However, its head was a perfect sphere, with no distinct features whatsoever. The entire statue appeared to have been drawn from thick, black lines, bearing an unmistakable resemblance to the Noise they had battled.

"Is that meant to be a pawn?" Jason asked, fascinated.

"It has to be," Graham said. "What do you think, Jason? Do we approach it? Or leave it alone?"

"Dude, do you know how long it's been since I've last played a game of chess?" Jason laughed.

"Well, pick one," Graham urged impatiently.

But even as they were trying to decide, the strange Noise advanced, taking about twenty steps forward before stopping. "I don't know if leaving it alone is an option. Running might be, though," Celia murmured.

"Screw this, then," Jason said. "If this really is a glorified game of chess, and our opponents are giving us a free piece, I say we take it."

"You're on. Leave this one to us, Celia," Graham nodded. With that, he and his partner drew their pins and raced forward. Once they reached the Noise, two Trance Hounds appeared to flank them. The pawn-shaped Noise and both hounds each split into two. All of the Noise and both Players became translucent as their battle began.

Behind Celia, Blake started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Celia asked, turning around.

"Those two idiots are going to get themselves killed," Blake said scornfully, shaking his head.

"They seem to be doing alright," Celia said, watching as Graham hurled a volley of small fireballs at one of the two images of the pawn Noise.

"Of course they are," Blake said in a patronizing tone. "Pawns are the weakest pieces in chess, but good Players don't throw them away needlessly. If this mission really is a chess game, and whoever we're playing against knows what he's doing, that pawn is just a sacrifice to lure us out of position."

"You mean it's a trap?" Celia gasped.

"Probably, but who knows what the rules…" Blake began.

But Celia had already started running towards the other two Players.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Blake demanded. When his partner showed no signs of turning back or even slowing, he let out a loud groan before reluctantly giving chase.

* * *

Celia finally stopped, just past where Graham and Jason still appeared to be battling the pawn, allowing Blake to catch up.

When Blake reached her side, he dropped to his knees, panting heavily. "What's the big idea?" he wheezed angrily.

"You were right, Blake," Celia said, indicating another fast-approaching Noise. Like the pawn, it appeared to be a humanoid statue, but this one appeared to be clad in thick robes. Instead of a sword and shield, it carried a large scepter, and its head was a rounded, conical shape with an odd edge cut into it. "That's a bishop, right?"

"That's time for us to leave," Blake corrected.

"No," Celia said, shaking her head. "If we leave now, Graham and Jason will have to fight both of them at once."

"And that matters to us… how, exactly?" Blake asked.

"It matters because I'm not going to leave them to die, or get erased, or whatever. Besides, we're working towards the same mission. Helping them is also helping ourselves, in the long run," Celia insisted. "Get your pins…"

But before she could finish her sentence, the bishop arrived. Then, to Celia, it looked as if everyone else had disappeared, leaving her alone with the Noise. She focused on her Player pin, first, and Michael's soothing voice rang out in her mind.

"Classical Bishop. This powerful Noise ambushes its targets from great distances, and sends forth other Noise to do its bidding while it strikes from afar. Clear away its minions quickly so you can approach it safely."

Two small shadows appeared beside the bishop, as a pair of bird-like Noise creatures comprised of intermingled black and golden lines descended to join the battle. Then a primal roar shook the air, and a bizarre claw-like shape emerged from the ground. It gripped the asphalt tightly, and a massive, ursine Noise with blue fur and orange markings pulled itself out of the ground.

"Electro Finch. These swift-flying, evasive birds are fragile, but difficult to hit. Mosh Grizzly. Massive bears with tattoos for arms. When enraged, these thick-furred beasts howl viciously, vastly increasing their strength."

Even before Michael's description of the two types of Noise ended, the two birds launched themselves skyward once more, and the bear began lumbering forward.

"The birds, first," Celia decided quickly. She began backing away, trying to imagine a weapon capable of dealing with the birds. Her thoughts settled on the first Noise she had encountered, and the bow Lauren had used to shoot it.

Her stylus appeared at her side. Two carefully-measured strokes left behind an elegant arc and a thin, straight line. The two then materialized into an elaborate wooden bow, and three shorter strokes left behind an arrow with white fletching and a shining silver point. The bow drew back, seemingly under its own power, and the arrow shot forth towards one of the two Electro Finches.

But the targeted flying Noise proved faster, narrowly avoiding the arrow as it swooped down at Celia. Its companion dove, too. Reacting quickly, Celia willed her stylus to draw a quick grid, which became a fine mesh net that hung between her and her attackers, stopping the two birds in their tracks.

Then the bear tore straight through the net with its claws without pause. Celia stumbled back with a yelp, trying to stay out of the mighty creature's reach. As if it could sense its master's distress, Celia's conjured bow moved between her and the approaching Noise. Celia only just found the presence of mind to imagine a second arrow, which soon whistled forward, plunging deep into the bear's chest.

The bear hardly noticed the meager projectile, and Celia scrambled to her feet and began to run, remaining only a step ahead of the monstrous Noise's paw.

* * *

"Helping ourselves my ass," Blake griped, as he found himself suddenly facing the quartet of Noise alone. Not bothering to scan his enemies as Celia had done, he grabbed one of his pins and flicked his wrist outwards, throwing a lance of raw, blue energy at the bear. The lance crackled as it sailed through the air, neatly impaling its target.

The bear staggered back, but the two birds dove upon Blake, slashing at him with their claws. He managed to turn away from one, but the other clipped his cheek, leaving three deep scratches. Angrily, he directed his pin upward, and firing off another magical lance. His second shot flew wide by several feet.

Blake swore loudly. "Why the hell am I doing this, anyways," he grumbled. "I should've just stayed dead. I'm going to end up that way anyways, if I keep letting my talentless hack of a partner drag me into every trap these Reapers laid for us."

The birds dove again, but Blake switched his pin for two others. With a thought, he simply vanished into thin air, reappearing in front of the massive bear Noise. Behind him, the two birds turned sharply, turning aside only just in time to avoid crashing into the ground.

The bear roared, but Blake only eyed it dismissively. "You think you're tough, eh?" he growled.

Silvery-blue chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around the bear's neck and wrists. The chains then retracted, dragging the bear to the ground and binding it in place. Blake coolly exchanged pins again, and after flashing the ensnared Noise a triumphant grin, conjured up another magical lance.

* * *

Celia knew she couldn't run forever. The bear would almost certainly catch up to her, and even if it didn't, she couldn't abandon her partner to fight the Noise alone.

Yet at the same time, she wasn't sure what she could use to stop the massive creature. She considered calling for a hunting rifle, or better yet, an assault rifle.

When she turned and found the bear standing right in front of her, all thoughts of trying to sketch a firearm fled her, and she imagined a wall instead. Her stylus swept I front of her, leaving thick gray lines which quickly coalesced into a concrete wall.

The bear's tattooed claw stabbed through the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. Then the bear stopped, and loosed a ferocious howl that shook the air around it.

"Oh, no," Celia whispered, her eyes widening in fear as she recalled her pin's warning.

But then the bear staggered backward. Its form crumbled into lines of static, which quickly faded, and only the bishop and two birds were left.

The birds swooped down on Celia again, but with a mere thought, she rewove the net she had used to stall them earlier. This time, she drew the net larger, and when the birds crashed into it, she willed it to wrap around them. Both of the flying Noise fell to the ground in a tangled heap. With a quick gesture, Celia sent her stylus up high. Trying to think of something heavy, she looked at her surroundings, and spotted the empty street side parking spots all around her.

A small van appeared over the captured Noise, before plummeting atop the two Electro Finches with a deafening crash.

* * *

"Go away, damn it!" Blake roared in frustration, as the two flying Noise continued spiraling around him, pecking and clawing at him from every direction. As he weaved around the aerial pests, a bolt of lightning struck him squarely in the chest.

Standing a safe distance away, the bishop twirled its scepter, which began glowing with energy. Then it brandished the scepter forward, hurling another bolt at the vulnerable Player.

Blake threw himself flat to the ground to dodge the second bolt, then rolled to the side, coming to a rest on his belly. He then sprang to his feet, and to his surprise, the two bird Noise were no longer anywhere to be seen.

Not one to question his luck, Blake charged the bishop. "Alright, you pointy-headed bastard. You're mine!" he cried.

Sidestepping another bolt of lightning, Blake exchanged his pins once more. A massive axe with a twelve-foot shaft appeared beside him, parallel to the ground with its handle pointed at the bishop. The axe then swung in a full 180-degree arc, dropping its heavy blade and upon the bishop and cleaving it neatly in two.

The two halves of the bishop split apart and became nothing more than fuzzy lines of static. Then they disappeared, and everyone else on the street, both in the Underground and otherwise, reappeared.

* * *

Celia approached Blake tentatively, unnerved by his livid expression. "Thanks for erasing the bear when you did," she said timidly.

"Shut up," Blake said.

"Hey!" Jason protested, prompting Blake to turn to him instead.

"You're welcome," Blake spat angrily. "And next time, try using your brain a little. I mean, seriously. A free piece?"

"Why, you…" Jason growled.

"Jason. Let it go," Graham said, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder. The blond turned towards Celia and Blake. "You're right, Blake. That was pretty dumb of us to run in like that. Thanks for bailing us out back there. You too, Celia."

Blake muttered something incoherent, then marched away without another word. Celia thought to go after him, but he didn't go far, coming to a stop just down the block.

"What the hell is that guy's problem?" Jason grumbled.

"I don't know, but we still have a mission to take care of," Graham reminded. "I bet there's more Noise around here like the two we just battled, including the king that we're searching for."

"We should try to find the other Players," Celia offered. "We only have two hours left. Even if all the pieces are here in Pioneer Square, the four of us won't have enough time to fight our way past all the extra pieces."

"Good idea, but I'm not sure where we'd begin with that, either," Jason pointed out.

"Right here," Celia answered, for she had spotted a pair of familiar faces down the street perpendicular to the one along which they had been traveling. "Laura! Vivian!"

Laura and Vivian turned towards the sound of her voice, and their expressions lit up. At the same time, four others who appeared to have been traveling with the two women turned, too. Together, the six of them began making their way towards Celia, Graham, and Jason.

"They must be Players, too," Graham mused. "I guess we're in luck."

Celia began to nod in agreement, but froze when a flicker of motion along one of the side streets caught her eye. "Look out!" she cried out in warning.

Another pawn identical to the one Graham and Jason had battled marched into the street, shortly followed by two more just like it. The three of them were joined by a fourth Noise, which resembled a knight mounted on horseback. The mounted Noise leapt high into the air, soaring over the two pawns easily to land directly next to the approaching Players. A pack of Trance Hounds appeared, too, and a dorsal fin appeared in the ground, as if it were part of a piscine Noise capable of swimming through the ground.

"More Noise," Jason groaned.

"We'd better help them," Graham said. "Will you be alright here alone, Celia?"

Celia nodded. "I'll try and talk Blake into helping, too," she offered.

"Yeah… good luck with that," Jason said dubiously, before he and Graham set off in a hurry.

Once they were gone, Celia turned in search of Blake. She was half-relieved to see him walking towards her already, but his grimly inscrutable look didn't offer her much comfort.

"We aren't going out there," Blake declared flatly. "Or at least, I'm not going out there. Since you can't do anything by yourself, there's little sense in you going alone, unless you _want_ to be erased."

Celia sighed. Twisted as Blake's logic was, he wasn't exactly wrong. "So, what? Do you want to stand here and watch while the Noise erase them? Or are we going to leave and try to finish the mission?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Blake said, shaking his head. "Getting caught up in that battle is just about the dumbest thing we could do. Look."

Obediently, Celia turned and watched as the other eight Players broken into four pairs. The Noise army had swelled, too, joined by another pair of bishops and three more pawns. "So they're badly outnumbered now," she observed. "But unless you really think we can finish today's mission and the next five on our own, that's more of a reason to help them, isn't it?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Blake groaned, shaking his head. He took a deep breath. "Look. In chess, sacrifices are made. No game ever ends with a Player still having all his pieces, and more importantly, the longer the game goes, the fewer pieces are left."

"Okay, but…" Celia began to interrupt.

"Just shut up and listen for a moment!" Blake ordered. "Each side only gets two bishops, normally, but I already took one out, remember? How can there possibly be two more down there attacking the other Players?"

"Whoever's playing against us has more pieces than he should have," Celia guessed. "So what?"

"So if he has three bishops, why not four? Why not ten?" Blake reasoned. "Our opponent could have a hundred pieces lying in wait, for all we know. The more time we wasted trying to take pieces that don't matter, the more Players we'll lose. See? There goes two right now."

With a jolt, Celia glanced at the battle again, noticing immediately that only six Players remained.

"If you'd like to be erased here, fine. I'm long past the point of caring what happens," Blake said. "But if you really want to help those Players, or if you actually care about surviving this game, do something intelligent for once."

Celia winced, stung by the harsh words. At the same time, there was an undeniable measure of truth to Blake's tirade. "I'm sorry, Blake," she apologized. "I don't play a lot of strategy games. I should've realized that you'd know better, and asked you for your help sooner."

Celia half-expected that remark to set her partner off again, or for her partner to dismiss her once more, but to her surprise, Blake shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "I'm no chess grandmaster, either," he mumbled.

"Maybe, but you know more than Graham, Jason, and I combined," Celia urged. "You're absolutely right; if we want to help the others, we'll have to finish this mission quickly. I'm not sure how we can do that, though. Could you help me, please?"

Blake didn't answer right away, and instead lapsed deep into thought for several agonizingly long seconds. "Where are we?" he demanded suddenly.

"We're in Pioneer…" Celia began.

"I know, Pioneer Square. I'm not deaf," Blake said, cutting her off. "Where are we relative to where we woke up this morning? West?"

"We're southeast. West would have taken us straight into Puget Sound," Celia answered.

"Which way were we walking when we ran into those other guys?" Blake asked.

"I think we were walking east," Celia said, straining to remember.

Blake nodded. "The Noise chessmen have been approaching from the south, while we all started in the north. If it's at all like a real chessboard, the king should have started out in the south, too. He might still be there," Blake reasoned.

"Are you sure?" Celia asked hesitantly. "If you imagine a square with the Space Needle somewhere on the northern edge, part of the southern edge would be underwater."

"Of course I'm not sure," Blake said scornfully. "But it's the best I've got to offer. We can try it, or we can stand around here trying to think of a better plan."

"Let's try it," Celia decided quickly. "You lead the way, okay?"

Blake shrugged indifferently. Then, ignoring the nearby battle entirely, he chose one of the roads south that seemed clear of Noise and set off without another word, leaving Celia to chase after him.

* * *

"Are we still headed the right way?" Blake asked, staring at the assorted banners and signs hanging from the nearby street posts.

"Yeah. We're in the International District now," Celia replied. She, too, turned to take in her surroundings, and almost immediately spotted a pawn Noise west of them. "Blake, look," she said.

"Ignore it," Blake said disinterestedly. "In chess, pawns only move forward, except when capturing enemy pieces. I'm not exactly sure how that translate into this mess, but all of the pawns we've seen have been moving north, too."

"Oh. Alright," Celia said.

"Come on, this way," Blake urged. He rushed across the street, then turned a sharp right, moving to the nearest corner. Then, without waiting for Celia to catch up, he turned again, sprinting towards a nearby parking lot.

When Celia caught up at last, she found herself and Blake standing at one end of the empty lot. Across from them stood six Noise. Celia immediately recognized four of them: two pawns, a bishop, and a knight. One of the remaining two resembled a castle, and the last could only be the king.

The king looked strikingly out of place beside his Noise minions. The other pieces were comprised of bold black lines, without any sort of facial features, but the king looked like a real human, a middle-aged man with thick, graying hair and a prominent beard. His golden crown glinted, and his jeweled scepter was far grander than the dull black implement wielded by the bishop. A pair of spiky black wings emerged from beneath his fur cloak, drooping to either side of him.

"The king is a Reaper!?" Celia gasped.

"Looks like," Blake said.

Celia concentrated on her Player pin, idly wondering if it could give her access to the Reaper's thoughts. Instead, Michael's voice floated hazily through her mind.

"Rex Cantus. Wilson's Noise form. Avoids direct confrontation when possible, and commands an army of self-tailored Noise to fight in his stead."

"What's the pin telling you?" Blake asked curiously, too lazy to retrieve his own Player pin.

"Not much," Celia admitted. "The Reaper's name is Wilson, I guess, for whatever that's worth."

"Useful," Blake sneered.

Celia and Blake stared at the Noise. Rex Cantus only stared back patiently, wearing a confident smile.

"He's waiting for us to make the first move," Blake guessed.

"Correct, Player," Rex Cantus replied in a bold, authoritative tone. "My Noise represent the black chessmen, thus our game begins with your first move."

"Funny. It looked like your pieces were moving whenever they felt like it," Blake pointed out dryly.

"Your pieces remained in perpetual motion as well," Rex Cantus countered. "There is little coordination to be found upon such a vast playing field, but our game here will abide a different set of rules."

"Are we supposed to guess at what those rules are?" Blake asked sarcastically.

"Of course not. How would that be fair?" Rex Cantus laughed. "My rules are quite simple. Once you and your partner step onto the lot, we will take turns moving. On your turn, you or your partner may move up to four tiles in any direction you'd like. Should either of you ever occupy the same tile as one of my Noise, you will be forced to do battle with that Noise and every other Noise capable of attacking that tile. Should you threaten the tile upon which I stand, I will be forced to move or otherwise cut off your approach. Should you leave me with no escape, you, the Players, will have won."

"Tiles?" Celia asked.

In answer to her question, the white lines of paint marking the parking spaces vanished, and new lines appeared, forming a grid. "Step onto the lot and let us begin," Rex Cantus invited. "Unless you'd prefer to let other Players answer my challenge instead."

"Tempting, but I'm not about to stake anything on their wits," Blake said. He stepped out onto the lot, then gestured for Celia to advance as well. Once both of them were on the board, he advanced four squares along the grid.

In answer, the pawn in front of Blake advanced, though it remained several squares away. Blake glanced over at the other pieces for a moment, then moved diagonally until he was past the pawn. When he came to a stop, the castle-like Noise moved across the entire lot to stand at Celia's side.

Celia glanced nervously at the approaching Noise, focusing on her Player pin.

"Classical Rook. A Noise that remains immobile once the battle begins. So long as it remains intact, it will shield any of its allies within the zone, rendering them invulnerable."

"Great," Celia muttered.

"Three squares forward, Celia," Blake ordered.

Celia obediently moved as he had asked, and this time, the knight on horseback moved in answer.

"There you go. Take my knight, and it'll be mate in three," Rex Cantus offered.

"Sure, if by 'three' you mean fighting three Noise at once," Blake said sarcastically.

"But of course," Rex Cantus laughed. "Vanquish those three Noise and your mission is complete. Are you up to the challenge? Or would you rather keep dancing around my pieces while the other Players struggle in the north?"

Reminded of the other Players, Celia measured the distance between her and the knight, and saw that she, too, could reach the knight in a single turn. "Alright, then," Celia declared.

"No, stop!" Blake cried. He was too late, though, for Celia had already advanced one tile forward. Celia froze, afraid to make things worse.

"Really, dear, if you were going to advance, you should have simply taken the knight," Rex Cantus chided. His rook moved backward to stand abreast of the knight. He grinned at Blake. "Mate in four?"

Celia shot Blake an apologetic look, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Don't move," he ordered, gauging the angle between Celia and the knight. He himself then advanced until he stood directly to the side of the pawn. "Check."

Rex Cantus bowed his head acceptingly. Then he turned and took a step to his left, moving away from Blake.

"Either you're holding back, or you're truly terrible at this game," Blake chortled.

"Believe what you will," Rex Cantus replied mildly.

"Hey, you!" Blake called to Celia. "Move back one square."

"Oh? Sacrificing your partner to my knight? How chivalrous of you," Rex Cantus teased.

Celia looked over at the knight, who loomed over her threateningly. She swallowed nervously. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Blake answered impatiently. "The bastard's just messing with your head. We can take one Noise if he moves the knight up to capture you."

Celia nodded. Then, taking a deep breath, she backed up to the square behind her.

"Well reasoned," Rex Cantus congratulated. "If I advance the knight now, and you two are able to defeat it, either of you would be able to end the game on your next turn."

"Are you going to take her or not?" Blake asked impatiently.

The knight began to move, but rather than advancing towards Celia, the horse seemed to spring to life, leaping over the bishop to stand between its king and Blake. In answer, Blake moved past the pawn and stood beside the knight.

"Go on. Take me with your pawn," Blake taunted.

But Rex Cantus didn't rise to the bait. Instead, the rook slid up towards Blake, leaving the teen trapped between three pieces. "You may remove that pawn from the board now, if you'd like," Rex Cantus suggested.

"No thanks," Blake said. He waved Celia forward. "Two squares forward, one right." After Celia did as he asked, he turned back to Rex Cantus. "Check."

The knight moved back to its original post, blocking Celia's path. Blake then weaved past the rook. "You've got nowhere to run. Attack me with the knight, and you're vulnerable to my partner. Is this checkmate, or do we still have to erase your one knight?"

"Checkmate indeed," Rex Cantus nodded. "A flawless victory. Well played." He gestured briefly, and all five of the other Noise disappeared.

"That's… that's it?" Celia asked. She looked at her palm, and the timer, which still read an hour, faded before her eyes.

"That's it," Rex Cantus confirmed. "Until we meet again." He flexed his wings, which disappeared along with his crown, cloak, scepter, and elegant clothing. Instead, the same man stood before them, now wearing a regular flannel shirt and ordinary blue jeans. He turned and strolled away casually, and suddenly, the parking lot was full of cars, and the lines shifted to marking the spaces once more.

Celia sighed in relief. "We made it. Good going, Blake."

Blake ignored her and began marching towards a wooden bench at the edge of the lot, about twenty feet from the entrance of the nearby shopping center.

Celia hastened to catch up to him. "Umm… I'm sorry for moving earlier," she apologized. "I know it was stupid, but when he spoke of the others, I panicked, and…"

"Quit apologizing," Blake said brusquely. "We're done with the stupid mission, so forget about it." He plopped himself down onto the bench and closed his eyes.

Celia stared at him helplessly for a moment longer, then sat down beside him.

Then she leapt back to her feet, for there was a large man with vaguely wolfish features standing in front of them, leering at her maliciously.

"Tired, are we? That's a shame. The day isn't quite over yet, after all," the man purred.

"Who are you?" Blake demanded, opening his eyes.

The mysterious man laughed, and a pair of wings sprouted from behind him. "Bradley Dolphus," he said extending a hand towards Celia, who was closer.

Celia eyed him nervously, and made no move to shake the Reaper's hand.

"Ah, so the savagery has already begun, then?" Bradley grinned. "Such is the life of the pack leader, I suppose. Thankfully, as the alpha, I care little to banter with my next meal. Gather, wolves!"

He waved his hand, and a black sigil appeared before him. It pulsed with energy, and six Trance Hounds suddenly appeared out of thin air, surrounding Celia and Blake.

"These are supposed to be wolves?" Blake frowned, hopping to his feet. "They look more like puppies to me."

"Puppies, eh?" Bradley grinned wickedly. "We'll see about that."

With that, Celia and Blake both found themselves alone with the Noise, as the six Trance Hounds closed in.

* * *

Right away, Celia saw that her trick with the trees wouldn't work a second time. The hounds had her surrounded, and even with how fast her stylus could draw, she couldn't hope to finish the barrier in time.

As that thought crossed her mind, she sent her stylus up into the air, hovering above her head and lying parallel to the ground. It spun like a compass, leaving a red circle, which fell and burst into flames.

The Noise began prowling the barrier, barking and snapping viciously, but none of them dared to leap through.

Standing within the ring of fire, Celia felt the sweltering heat of her own flame shield intensely, which left her dizzy and disoriented. She knew she wouldn't have long, though, and forced herself to focus. Thinking of the Reaper's wings, she sent her stylus behind her, where it began to draw once more. By the time the flames faded away, Celia was floating several feet in the air, suspended by a pair of shimmering, multi-colored wings shaped like those of a butterfly.

Only four hounds remained, and Celia knew that Blake must have already erased two of them. One of the remaining hounds leapt up, snapping at her heels, but she only drifted up higher and out of its reach. Then, with a few quick strokes, Celia sent a boulder tumbling downwards. The Noise below scattered, nimbly avoiding the first boulder, but Celia continued to draw, and the deadly avalanche persisted until it pummeled the remaining hounds into nonexistence.

* * *

Celia touched down lightly beside Blake, her winds fading away. Blake hardly seemed to notice her, and continued scowling at Bradley, clenching his pins tightly in his fists.

But the Reaper only smiled.

"Was that really the best you could do?" Blake taunted.

"Hardly. My pack is endless," Bradley assured. "I wonder, can you and your partner hold out until the Game Master declares the day to be over?"

But before any more Noise could come to the Reaper's call, his sigil abruptly shattered.

"I'm afraid the day is already over, Mr. Dolphus."

"Michael!" Celia gasped, immediately recognizing the tall and beautiful blond man who had appeared behind the Reaper.

"Is it now?" Bradley asked, feigning surprise as he turned to the face the blond.

"Yes, it is. Furthermore, you have already exhausted the supply of Noise allotted to you for today," Michael added, in a tone that made it clear he wasn't fooled. "Move along, Reaper. There is nothing more for you here."

"Yes sir," Bradley said, bowing his head deferentially. Then he turned and strolled away, his wings fading from sight moments before he disappeared around the nearest street corner.

"My apologies, Miss Celia, Mr. Daniels," Michael said. "Some of our Reapers are still learning their limits. Are you two alright?"

Blake shot Michael an untrusting look. "I'm fine," he said shortly, before plopping himself back down on the bench.

"Yeah, I think we're doing okay," Celia agreed, though even as she spoke, she noticed just how exhausted she felt.

Michael seemed to understand at once, and smiled kindly at her. "It's a little overwhelming, isn't it? You look like you've had a pretty rough time, Miss Winter, but you seem to have weathered the storm quite well."

"Thanks, I think…" Celia said. As she spoke, she peeked at her bandaged shoulder, and was relieved to see that Jason had done a very thorough job in binding her wound. "Hey, Michael? Or, umm…"

"You may call me whatever you like," Michael said, guessing what was on her mind.

Celia nodded. "Michael, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Ask away, and I will answer what I can," Michael said invitingly.

"Who are you?" Celia asked.

Michael gave her a strange, inquisitive look. "I should not answer that," he admitted. "But I will. I am the Producer, though it will be some time before you understand the significance of that. Think of me as a guardian of this game."

"Umm… okay," Celia agreed, though that didn't seem to mean a whole lot, either. "The Reaper who just attacked us mentioned a Game Master. Who's the Game Master?" she asked.

"The Game Master is the individual charged with administering the Game. He is responsible for writing the missions. He also determines which Reapers are permitted to contest the Players, and how they will do so," Michael explained. "Once the mission is complete, he brings the day to an end, putting the remaining Players to sleep."

"If the Game Master writes the missions and sends the Reapers after us, does that mean we're playing this game against him?" Celia asked.

"Indeed," Michael answered. "In fact, Players and Reapers are forbidden from attacking each other directly until the seventh day. On the day of the final mission, Players will be allowed to attack the Game Master, and vice versa. Traditionally, the final mission entails defeating the Game Master."

Celia frowned, unsettled by the thought of battling the de facto leader of the Reapers. "What's the Game Master like?" she asked tentatively. "Is he strong?"

"Strength is… relative," Michael said carefully. "Like most of the Reapers strong enough to achieve such a high rank, the Game Master can infuse himself with Noise, assuming a powerful shape known as a Noise form. In addition, our present Game Master possesses remarkable talent with pins and psychs. Though the two of you have already been acquainted with our Game Master, you have yet to see his full potential."

Celia swallowed nervously, and glanced out towards the now-busy parking lot. Blake's first guess was on the mark, after all. Rex Cantus, or rather, Wilson, _had_ been holding back.

"So, if we're finished with today's mission, why hasn't the Game Master ended the day yet?" Celia asked, trying to blot out the thought of battling an entire army of Noise chessmen.

"There's no hurry," Michael shrugged. "We've decided it best to offer all of you Players a brief respite before forging on towards our next mission."

Blake snorted.

"Yes, Mr. Daniels?" Michael asked, smiling pleasantly at the teen.

"A brief respite, with Reapers breathing down our neck?" Blake said. "What's the point when no one in the real world can see us, anyways?"

"The Reapers are not supposed to attack you once the mission is complete. Hence, my intervention today," Michael said, unbothered by Blake's sour demeanor. "As for the purpose of such a respite, you may wish to spend this time getting to know your partner better. If not… well, it's not entirely true that no one in the Realground can see you."

"It's not?" Celia asked, her interest piqued.

"Look over there, on the window," Michael said, indicating the supermarket behind Celia. "Do you see how the same symbol that adorns your Player pins has been painted there? Several locations in this city have been marked in such a manner. At these locations, you may interact with the Realground and its denizens, to an extent. However, anyone who may know you will have a difficult time recognizing you, and you will find yourself unable to speak of your present condition, or of anything else pertaining to the Reapers' Game."

"What sort of places are open to us?" Celia asked intently.

"Oh, all sorts of places. For instance, I know of at least one department store you could visit if you'd like to replace your clothing," Michael suggested. "And while there is no need to eat while you are here in the Underground, several restaurants have been opened to you."

"How long do we have until the day is over?" Celia asked.

"An hour, perhaps?" Michael guessed. "If you have a destination in mind, I can speed you on your way."

The offer was tempting, but Celia knew too that there could be other Reapers like Bradley lurking around, willing to break the rules. Understanding that she couldn't go alone, Celia looked towards Blake, wondering if she could persuade him to accompany her. "Blake, do you mind?"

Blake matched her stare for several long seconds. Then he sighed. "Sure. Whatever."

"Where would you like to go then, Miss Winter?" Michael asked.

"Could you send us back to where we woke up this morning?" Celia requested.

"As you wish."

There was a blinding flash of light, and when it faded, Michael was nowhere to be seen. The mysterious white-suited man had been true to his word, though, for Celia and Blake found themselves standing right where they had started out, in the middle of a grassy field a short distance from the Space Needle.

* * *

"Not that I really care either way, but there's no guarantee your favorite clothing store will be open," Blake pointed out dryly, as he followed her from the field. "You should've just asked Michael to take you to the department store that's open."

"I'm not shopping for clothes," Celia replied, briskly following a route that had become intimately familiar to her over the past few weeks.

"Where are we going, then?" Blake demanded impatiently.

"There's some place I have to see," Celia answered evasively.

Blake groaned in dismay, but he didn't have to wait long. Their destination soon came into view, prompting an even louder groan. "We came all the way back here for _coffee_?"

Celia shook her head quickly. "No… I just… there's someone I need to see," she said.

"Michael warned us that no one who knew us would recognize us, remember?" Blake reminded.

"I know, but… he'll recognize me. I know he will," Celia insisted. Her heart began pounding as she neared the doorway, searching for any sign of the snowflake insignia. When she saw the small symbol painted in the upper right corner of the doorway, she nearly cried out in relief.

But just as her hand closed over the handle, she spotted the person she had been searching for, approaching from across the street. "Faith!" Celia cried out joyfully.

Blake looked up, too, and when he recognized the approaching man, his expression grew stony.

As Faith walked towards them, Celia stared at him eagerly. "Go inside," she pleaded. "Please, Faith. Go inside."

But Faith didn't turn into the coffee shop. He walked straight past them instead, a sizeable shopping bag swinging at his side.

Crestfallen, Celia watched helplessly as her friend strolled away without taking note of her.

"What did you expect?" Blake asked dryly.

Celia glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, she turned and raced after Faith, pausing only to unclip and stow her Player pin. She wasn't certain why she was chasing after someone who couldn't see her, particularly when she had no interest in prying into his thoughts. Perhaps she was still subconsciously hoping that he would miraculously sense her presence, or perhaps she simply wanted to remain with him a little while longer. Whatever the reason, she continued tailing Faith until he came to a stop halfway down the block.

At first, Celia didn't understand why Faith had stopped. Then she saw why he had come, and tears sprang to her eyes. They had come upon a small shrine standing at the edge of the sidewalk. The memorial was laden with many bouquets of tastefully-arranged flowers, and at its center was a framed photograph of her own smiling face, adorned with several scribbled messages. Celia paid the words little attention, but in that brief glimpse, she spotted Karen's familiar, messy scrawl among them.

Celia slowly stepped past the memorial, feeling as if her feet had somehow turned to lead. She looked into her friend's face, watching as Faith removed his glasses. Though outwardly, he looked exactly as Celia remembered, there was a somber, defeated look in his eyes.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Faith…" Celia whispered guiltily, as she felt a wave of guilt pressing down upon her.

"Hello, C," Faith greeted quietly. He set down his shopping bag and reached within, pulling forth a vibrant bundle of assorted flowers. "What do you think?" he asked, holding the flowers out towards the photograph. "The florist gave me the oddest look when I picked these out. Then, when I told her it was for a girl I knew, she spent nearly twenty minutes trying to convince me to get you a bundle of roses instead. I thought you'd like these better, though. When I walked into the store and saw all the different flowers they had, I couldn't help but think of… well, you know."

Celia only nodded numbly, for indeed, she saw a striking familiarity in the bouquet Faith had chosen.

Faith's lips curved into a slight smile, and Celia's heart leapt as she dared to hope she had been noticed. Her heart sank a moment later, though, when Faith continued speaking as if she wasn't there. "Maybe you don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly," Faith chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Though, speaking of silly, I have something else for you, too." He reached into his bag once more, emerging with a pair of laminated, white cardboard cases. "Remember how I told you about all the odds and ends we get in the office? I thought you would've liked these two."

Faith opened the cases carefully, one at a time, and laid them upon the memorial beside the flowers. Inside the elongated box was a small, elegant glass feather, perhaps two inches long. The square box held a pin, much like the two that Celia now carried.

"I hear these pins are all the rage in Japan," Faith explained, lifting the pin and twirling it lightly between his fingers. "Naturally, my business partner found it necessary to order ten cases of them. Now there's a few hundred of these things lying around my office. I thought you'd like the pattern on this one, though." He replaced the pin gingerly, pressing it into the foam pad resting within the box. "I thought the feather looked kind of neat, too. I hope you like them, though I honestly haven't the slightest idea what you would've have done with them if you were still… here."

Celia smiled sadly. It was just like Faith to bring her a couple beautiful baubles with no practical use. Baubles that she treasured nonetheless, for they meant that even while going about his everyday things, he had been thinking of her.

Faith took a step back from the shrine, and stared at it longingly for several seconds. "Your father came by the other day. At least, I think he was your father. I thought about saying something to him, but… well, I wasn't sure what to say," Faith said. "He must have taken you home by now, I imagine…"

Faith fell silent, and for a long time, he stood there motionlessly, deep in thought.

Then all of a sudden, he closed his eyes and began speaking again. "I still see you… every time I close my eyes, I see you lying there on the ground," he whispered hoarsely. "I remember pulling out the knife, and trying to stop the bleeding with my hands. I remember holding you, and looking into your eyes. I remember how… how scared you looked. I was scared, too. I wanted to comfort you… to help you… I wanted it so badly, but I… I just… I felt so powerless."

Celia bit her lip tightly, her feelings of guilt resurfacing tenfold.

"I should have shouted out to you sooner," Faith rambled on, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Or I should have arrived earlier so that I could've met you and your friend at the bus stop. Or I could have called you, and asked to meet somewhere else. How many things could I have done differently that morning, I wonder?"

"No… no, Faith. It wasn't your fault," Celia protested.

"I had every chance to make things different," Faith said. "But I didn't. All I did was kneel at your side, whispering idle promises to you as I watched you die."

Suddenly, as if he couldn't bear to look at the memorial any longer, Faith turned away, looking out into the street. "Celia, there's… there's something I have to tell you. Something you probably already know, but still…"

Faith took a deep breath.

"I killed him," Faith admitted. "I shot the man who stabbed you. I didn't mean for him to die; I just needed to stop him, so I fired without really thinking about it. I didn't even realize what I had done, until after you had… until after you were gone. Then I turned to him, and saw that he was dead, too. Did he deserve to die, I wonder? I want to believe he did, after what happened to you, but whether he did or not, it doesn't really matter now. He's dead, and I'm the one who pulled the trigger. I took someone's life away. I was just like him."

"No, Faith. You're not like him," Celia said. "You're nothing like him at all, Faith."

"I've been thinking about turning myself in," Faith continued. "Somehow, the cops still haven't found me out. Your roommate must have gotten a good look at me, but she seems to be keeping quiet. I thought there would've been more witnesses, too… but I guess not."

A sickening knot tightened in Celia's stomach as she imagined her friend being arrested, forced to stand trial for trying to save her life.

"I don't know what I'll do, C," Faith said listlessly. "Would you think anything less of me now, knowing what I have done? I feel like such a coward, but I know if I come clean now, they'll ask me to recount everything that happened. I'll have to relive it all again, and I… I don't think I can face that right now."

Faith gathered up his empty shopping bag and sighed. "Can you forgive me, Celia?" He inhaled deeply. "We'll meet again one day, C. I'm sure of it. Until then… I guess this is goodbye."

* * *

 _Is it angels? Is it devils?_

 _Whispering in my ear,_

 _Is it emotions? Is it illusions?_

 _I need to be with you…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyric's taken from Long Dream.**


	5. Day Three: Enduring Aria

**~ Day Three ~**

 **Enduring Aria**

* * *

 _Is this what you're searching for?_

 _Are you scared to know the truth?_

 _Now, open your eyes,_

 _The pieces are all over,_

 _Now, you should accept this,_

 _It is over…_

* * *

 _"… so we get inside the arena, and right away, I knew that we had made a mistake. Williams, that guy who seemed nervous about it before, was standing right next to me. He started shaking like mad once we were inside," Faith said._

 _"Ooh. That doesn't sound good. Was he sick or something?" Celia asked._

 _"That's exactly what I asked him," Faith replied. "He insisted he was fine, but he certainly didn't seem that way. I was tempted to call the whole thing off, but the others – or at least, the others on my team – balked at the idea. We went inside and found ourselves a good hiding spot, with Williams shivering the whole way as if he were slowly freezing to death."_

 _"That's awful!" Celia said._

 _"Oh, that's not the awful part," Faith grinned. "About thirty seconds after we got into position, the lights went out. Williams made this odd, strangled, squeaking noise, and at first, I thought someone stepped on a mouse or something. Then he just dropped to the ground and went catatonic."_

 _"He what!?" Celia gasped._

 _Faith shook his head ruefully. "We started calling for help, of course, and the other team didn't have a clue what we were yelling about, so they rounded the corner and started blasting away. It was complete chaos until the refs realized something was wrong and flipped the lights back on. The paramedics showed up soon after; they had Williams on a stretcher and halfway to the ambulance by the time he could speak again. Turns out the poor guy has nyctophobia."_

 _Celia frowned. "Nyctophobia? What's that?"_

 _"Irrational fear of the dark. Or night, technically, but in this case, dark," Faith explained. "So, yeah. That was our first and last attempt at Laser Tag Friday. Now we just do Monopoly Mondays."_

 _"Monopoly Mondays? So you guys are playing tonight?" Celia asked curiously._

 _"Nah. We start the games at around noon, usually. They've been trying to drag me into it, too, but poring over a board game for four hours straight isn't really my thing," Faith answered._

 _"Four hours?" Celia echoed. "Monopoly shouldn't take that long, does it?"_

 _"It does when you throw some house rules, a few beers, and free pizza into the mix," Faith shuddered. "Trust me. It's not a pretty sight."_

 _"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Celia giggled._

 _"Then I guess ignorance really is bliss," Faith teased. "So, what about you? What kind of things do you do in your spare time?"_

 _"Spare time?" Celia asked, feigning a puzzled look. "What's that?"_

 _The two of them shared a quick laugh._

 _"Honestly, I haven't had much time to myself since I graduated," Celia admitted. "When I'm not working on a specific commission, I'm usually working on one of my own ideas. That way, I can still share them later and see if it catches anyone's attention."_

 _"You must really love what you do, then," Faith said. "I've heard before that nothing ruins a hobby more quickly than trying to make a living from it, but that doesn't seem to have been the case for you."_

 _"Well, it's not easy," Celia said. "Sometimes, it feels like it was all just a big mistake. It would be so much easier just to give up, and do something ordinary instead, you know? But then, I try to imagine what my life would be like, and it… it doesn't feel right. That's just not who I want to be."_

 _"Are you happy with the way things are, then?" Faith asked, sounding surprised. "You know, you didn't really strike me as the ambitious type before, but you seem pretty determined. You'd have to be, to have gotten as far as you have."_

 _"I haven't really gotten all that far," Celia said, blushing. "I still have a long way to go, but yeah, I'd say I'm happy with the way things have been. I don't really know if it's about ambition or determination, either. I like expressing myself through my work, and even if it doesn't quite reach everyone, as long as I can keep trying, I think I'll be content."_

* * *

When Celia awoke the following morning, she couldn't find the will to move at all. She simply laid there upon the uncomfortable concrete sidewalk, unable to sleep, yet distant to the world nonetheless. Cars drove by and pedestrians stepped through her, all without her noticing.

"You have to keep going," Celia whispered to herself drearily. Even as that thought crossed her mind, though, she was beset by her memories of the day before.

Arguing with her partner, whose hatred of her was far beyond her comprehension. Watching other Players succumb to the Noise. Unintentionally sabotaging Blake's first attempt at real cooperation. Facing Reapers far beyond her, and learning that the worst was yet to come.

Seeing what had become of those she had left behind.

Celia knew that it was time to get up. She knew that she needed to steel herself for the challenges that awaited her. She just couldn't find the strength to do it.

She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, and heard the soft ringtone indicating that their mission had arrived. The palm of her hand stung as the timer appeared, and still, she remained motionless.

"Hey. The mission's here."

"I know," Celia said tiredly, though she immediately regretted speaking aloud; Blake sounded as rude and indifferent as ever, and she simply couldn't imagine having a civil conversation with him in her present state.

Blake stared at her for several seconds before speaking again. "You know there's a…" he began dryly. But he stopped, and seemed to reconsider his words. "There's a time limit, remember?" he said, in a far softer tone. "We should try to get started as soon as possible."

"I thought you said you were long past the point of caring what happens?" Celia asked bitterly, throwing Blake's own words back at him.

Blake had no answer to that, and fell silent once more. He stared at her for a while, his expression inscrutable. He then turned and looked out towards the road, watching as the cars went by, fragments of the world living on without them.

Then Blake looked to the left, and noticed a familiar coffee shop waiting nearby. "I did say that, didn't I?" Blake conceded. "If you don't care anymore either, I guess that's fair. In that case, do you mind if I go and grab a coffee?"

"Go ahead," Celia said indifferently.

"I… I need you to come with me, though, remember?" Blake reminded. "If I get jumped by Noise while getting my coffee, I'd like to be able to fight back, at least. You don't have to fight any Noise if you don't want to. Just draw, I don't know, a castle around yourself or something, and let me handle them."

Celia sighed. "Fine," she said, pulling herself wearily to her feet. She winced when she saw where they were and recognized the coffee shop Blake was headed towards.

"Something wrong?" Blake asked.

Celia shook her head, and followed Blake up to the store's entrance. Once there, she paused, peering hesitantly through the windows.

"You might as well come in. No reason to stand out here waiting," Blake said, pulling the door open.

Reluctantly, Celia followed Blake inside. The barista, a young woman who Celia recognized at once, smiled warmly at them as they entered. It was just as Michael had warned them, though, for there were no signs of recognition in the barista's eyes.

"What do you want?" Blake asked.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Celia said.

"You come here all the time, don't you? What do you normally order?" Blake asked impatiently.

Celia sighed. "Fine. A short dark roast, then," she said, deciding it best not to argue. Then, out of habit, she began moving across the small shop towards her usual seat in the corner. Once there, she gazed distantly out of the nearest window, her fragmented memories and thoughts churning relentlessly.

"Interesting pin you've got there."

Celia turned and looked up to see an unfamiliar man standing in front of her. He looked Japanese, and wasn't much larger than she was, standing about five-and-a-half feet tall. He wore a fairly plain white shirt and an old-fashioned black vest. His medium-length hair stood up in the front, and a pair of dark sunglasses rested atop of his head.

"They're all the rage where I come from," the man explained. "The pins, I mean. Even designed a few of them myself. Don't think I've seen that particular design before, though." The man spoke with a light, yet distinct, Japanese accent.

Celia gave the stranger an odd look. For some inexplicable reason, she found herself reminded of Michael. It made very little sense; Michael and this stranger both appeared to be in their mid-30s, but that was just about the only similarity between them.

"Something wrong?" the stranger asked curiously.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," Celia apologized. "I was just wondering, um…"

"Where I'm from?" the man guessed. "I'm from Tokyo, Japan. Shibuya, specifically. Call me Hanekoma." He took a sip from his coffee. "So, what's the deal with the pins here? Do you folks just collect them and wear them?"

"I don't know. Someone gave me mine," Celia explained. She looked down at her Player pin, which remained clipped to her shirt, then reached into her pocket. She quickly retrieved her stylus pin, as well as the other pin Faith had left her and the unusual glass feather. For the first time, she took a good look at the latter two; she only vaguely remembered collecting them from the memorial the day before, and had yet to pay any attention to the unusual designs.

The pin had been painted a rich shade of turquoise, with a light, wave-like pattern spiraling inwards from the left and right sides. A vertical bolt of white lightning, framed by a thick, pale yellow border, divided the pin's design in two. The word 'Pegaso' had been spelled out across the pin in an elegant hand drawn style, but the silver lettering seemed to blend in with the background, making it difficult to read.

As Celia palmed the smooth glass feather, she realized it was actually a small hairclip. It resembled the trinkets sold from small arts-and-crafts booths in Seattle's open-air markets, but the glass seemed impossibly cool, almost as if it were not glass at all, but ice.

"That one I recognize," Hanekoma noted, eyeing the lightning bolt pin. "Lightning Rook from Pegaso. It's quite pricey, and a real collector's item, from what I hear. They're an Italian company."

"Have you been to Italy?" Celia asked, though her attention remain fixed upon the pin and feather.

Hanekoma shook his head. "Nah. I don't travel a whole lot. I came to see a friend of mine, but even finding the time for this trip wasn't easy. I own a café back at home, you see." He surveyed the coffee shop's interior speculatively. "I must have passed by a dozen of these stores this morning. Decided I had to stop by and see what they were like inside."

"Yeah, Starbucks has a lot of stores around here," Celia agreed absently. "They're all over the state. The country, really, but there's more here than anywhere else, I think."

"It's really something, isn't it?" Hanekoma said wistfully. "Say, you alright, Snowflake? You seem a little down."

"Snowflake?" Celia echoed, briefly puzzled, until she remembered the design of her Player pin. "Oh. I'm… I'm doing alright. It's been a rough week so far, that's all."

"Has it? Well, if it's something you want to talk about, lay it on me," Hanekoma invited kindly. "We café owners can be pretty good listeners. Comes with the job."

Celia gave Hanekoma an odd look, but strangely enough, she felt perfectly at ease around him. Still, she wasn't sure just how much she was comfortable sharing, or how much she would be allowed to say.

"Lately, I've been working on… a project," Celia began. "Something for a good friend of mine. For all of my friends, and for me, too, actually."

"It must be something pretty important," Hanekoma guessed.

"Very," Celia said, nodding. "But it's… it's hard. I knew it would be when I started, but every time I think about it, it seems harder and harder, until it's practically impossible."

"Well, maybe you're trying to do too much on your own," Hanekoma suggested.

Celia grimaced. "I wish I was on my own," she admitted. "But what I'm doing now isn't something I can do alone. I have a partner, but he and I don't get along, either. We had a bit of a disagreement in the past. I tried to let it go, hoping we could work together, but he doesn't seem ready to do the same. Sometimes, it feels like he hates me, and I'm not even really sure why."

Hanekoma frowned. "Sorry to hear it… that's rough," he said. "Ever think about changing partners?"

"I think it's too late for that," Celia admitted. "The worst part is, I want this to work out, more so than anything I've ever wanted before. You see, I did something that really hurt one of my friends. I didn't mean to do it, and I know he doesn't blame me for what happened, but I can't help but feel… I just need to finish this for him. To make things right again, for both of us."

"I see. This friend of yours must really mean a lot to you," Hanekoma said thoughtfully.

"He does," Celia said. "I know I can't give up now, but everything's just been falling apart, lately. Normally, when I'm not sure what to do, I tell myself to keep going, to just take one step forward in whichever direction _feels_ right. Nothing feels right now, though. I feel more and more lost with every step I take."

"Hmm… I'm not sure if I can help you with that. I make coffee, not maps," Hanekoma said. "But if there's something else we café owners are good at, besides listening, it's offering unsolicited, nonspecific advice."

"Oh?" Celia asked.

"Listen up, Snowflake. The world ends with you," Hanekoma began. "If you want to enjoy life, expand your world. Maybe you're right, and what you're doing now truly is impossible… but if it really matters as much to you as you say it does, you're just going to have to push your horizons out as far as they'll go."

"What do you mean?" Celia asked.

"Think of your life as a story, to mold as you see fit," Hanekoma suggested. "If you aren't happy with the way it's headed, there's no reason to give up and follow it to its end. It doesn't matter what direction feels right. Pick one and go, and even if you never quite find the ending you're searching for, you're no worse off than you are right now."

"Just pick one and go…" Celia murmured.

"Warned you that it would be _nonspecific_ advice," Hanekoma said. He tossed his head back and laughed. "Sit on it for a while, and maybe it'll do you some good. Anyways, I've got to run… but before I do, take this." He reached into one of his vest pockets and pulled out a pin, then slid it across the table to Celia. Curiously, the pin was entirely blank.

Celia shot Hanekoma a questioning look, unsure of what to say.

"You seem to be the creative sort. You'll know what to do with it," was the only explanation Hanekoma offered. "Nice talking with you, Snowflake."

As she watched Hanekoma leave, Celia couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to the unusual foreigner. She didn't understand why, but it just felt as if Hanekoma had known more than he had been letting on to. She didn't have long to ponder that feeling, though, for Blake joined her only a few seconds after Hanekoma departed.

"Here," Blake said, passing Celia her cup.

"Thanks," Celia said, accepting the cup and setting it aside.

"Quite the character," Blake mused, looking towards the coffee shop's doorway and watching as Hanekoma exited the store. "Snowflake, eh?"

Celia blushed. "You were listening in on us?" she demanded indignantly.

"Just to the last bit," Blake admitted. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to interrupt you two, either. Sorry."

Celia looked up at Blake in surprise, for it was the first time she remembered hearing a genuine apology from him. "It's… it's alright," Celia said.

Blake nodded stiffly. "Hey, uh… there's something I wanted to ask you," he said hesitantly. "I've changed my mind. About this game, I mean. The Reapers' Game. I… I want to win."

Celia nodded. "Okay," she said.

"It's… I know you said… well…" Blake swallowed. "Look. If you're tired of playing, I get it. I won't blame you. We can stay here if you want, right up until the end. But if you're willing to follow me, I'll try to get us through the rest of the week."

"You'd rather do the missions on your own?" Celia asked coldly.

"No, that's not what I meant," Blake said quickly. "If you want to keep playing, too, we can work together. I just mean…"

Celia nodded, understanding. "Then we'll work together," she agreed. "I still want to win, too. I didn't really mean what I said earlier. Sorry for snapping at you like that."

Blake shook his head. "You don't need to apologize, C. Partners, then? For real, I mean."

Celia flinched. "Partners," she agreed. "But… could you please not call me that?"

"O-Oh. Yeah, sure," Blake said nervously. "What do you want me to call you, then? Snowflake?"

"Or just Celia. You know, my name," Celia said, smiling faintly. "Sorry… it's just… C is kind of a special nickname to me. It's what my mother used to call me when I was little. Even my father never used it."

"I see," Blake said thoughtfully. "Okay then. Celia it is. Are you ready to tackle today's mission?"

"Ready," Celia confirmed, taking out her phone.

* * *

 _Capture the three flags. You have 180 minutes. Fail, and face erasure._

 _\- The Reapers_

* * *

Celia looked down at the timer on her hand, which now read two and a half hours. "Three flags, huh?" she mused.

"If we can find the first one in half an hour, we'll be right on track," Blake said. "That's assuming we're the only ones working on it, too. I watched your friends set off this morning right when the mission arrived."

"Friends? You mean Graham and Jason?" Celia asked.

"Yeah, those two. I didn't talk with them, but since they survived yesterday's mission, I bet some of the other Players are still alive and kicking, too," Blake said. "Still, with how yesterday turned out, I'm not sure how much we can count on them. Let's get started."

"Let's," Celia agreed, and the two of them rose to leave.

* * *

As soon as she stepped out of the coffee shop, Celia knew something was wrong. Blake had disappeared upon crossing over the store's threshold, and did not reappear when Celia followed. What's more, the streets seemed eerily deserted.

"Shield me," Celia whispered, focusing on her stylus pin and imagining a protective sphere. Her stylus appeared and began swirling around her, leaving thick trails of ink that formed a translucent shell around her.

She had finished her spherical barrier just in time, for a quartet of Electro Finches promptly slammed straight into it, leaving a series of thin cracks. Reacting quickly, Celia sent her stylus into a series of horizontal and parallel lines. Just before her net was finished, the Noise managed to break through the shell.

Celia dove flat to the ground, and the Noise passed harmlessly overhead. But in her moment of distraction, her net wavered slightly. It completed itself mere seconds later than she had hoped, and when it swept past her, it caught only one of the four Noise.

The three remaining Noise dove again, leaving Celia without enough time to draw again. Instead, she sent her stylus straight at the approaching Noise, stabbing and slashing wildly in hopes of buying just a little bit of time. Streaks of color trailed behind it, exploding into colorful sparks, but the stylus moved too slowly to connect against the agile creatures.

Then, without warning, two of the Noise abruptly disappeared, granting Celia a mild reprieve. With one final thrust, she drove her remaining attacker away. Then, she began drawing once more. A cyclone took shape, capturing the last free Noise as it dove at her, then seizing the previously captured Noise as it escaped the entangling net. Both of the remaining birdlike creatures were left spinning uncontrollably until they, too, disappeared.

* * *

As soon as the last Noise had been erased, the street seemed to come alive once more. Celia found herself and Blake standing face to face with a thin, Vietnamese man. She was not surprised to see the spiky black wings adorning the Reaper's back.

"Not bad. After all the time you two spent hiding inside the café, I thought you'd be a bit weaker," the man said.

Blake stared at him incredulously. "Seriously? You've been standing out here this whole time waiting for us?" he groaned. "Don't you Reapers have anything better to do?"

"Not really. I am a Harrier, after all," the man answered. "Name's Trevor. Nice to meet you, though I doubt the feeling's mutual."

"A Harrier?" Celia asked, without offering him her own name.

"It means I hunt down Players like you for a living," Trevor clarified. "Quite literally."

"Why?" Celia asked, horrified.

"Do I look like a philosopher to you?" Trevor shrugged. "It's just the sort of world we live in. An eagle hunts rabbits, not to be cruel, but in order to survive. In the Underground, I'm that eagle, and the two of you had better start scurrying for your burrows."

"Very poetic," Blake remarked wryly. "But if you have to hunt Players to survive, why waste your time waiting for us?"

"A skilled hunter can afford to be picky about his prey," Trevor said, smiling wickedly. "You two just happen to have a delectable bounty on your heads."

"A bounty?" Celia asked, puzzled.

"That's right," Trevor nodded. "I've got nothing against you two, but the Conductor really wants you erased. So, no hard feelings, alright?"

"Oh yeah, none at all," Blake said sarcastically. "So, Trevor, how's this going to go down? Have you got the balls to face us yourself, or are you just going to fling Noise at us until we all die of old age? Or were you just planning to talk us to death?"

Trevor laughed. "Attacking you directly? Of course not. How would that be fair? I'm afraid I've already dispatched all of my Noise for the day, too," he said, shaking his head.

"So you're just here to waste our time," Blake grimaced. "Cute. Come on, Celia. Forget this clown."

"Not so fast," Trevor interrupted. "Those flags you're supposed to be hunting today? I happen to know where you can find one of them."

"Do you expect us to believe that?" Celia demanded.

"Hardly," Trevor snickered. "I expect you to look for yourselves. Over there, at the top of the Space Needle."

Celia and Blake exchanged uneasy glances, then glanced warily over at the nearby tower while keeping a close eye on the Reaper. A small, colorful flicker could be seen from above the famous building's saucer-like observation deck.

Blake glared at Trevor suspiciously. "First you claim you're here to erase us, now you're helping us with our mission. Just what sort of game are you playing?" he demanded.

"I _did_ mention that I had already dispatched my Noise, didn't I?" Trevor explained slyly. "We'll call this Reaper Sport 3, King of the Hill. You take the flag, and the Noise will try to take it back. Erase them before they erase you. Fail and… well, you know the drill. Good luck!"

With one final laugh, the Reaper turned and walked away, his wings gradually fading from sight. Once he was gone, Celia and Blake turned their attention back to the Space Needle.

"So, we know it's a trap, but our only choice is to trip it anyways," Celia sighed.

"We could try to coax other Players into retrieving it for us," Blake suggested.

Celia shook her head immediately. "No way. We're not going to send other Players into harm's way just to keep ourselves safe, and we can't afford to waste our time looking for the other Players, anyways."

"I guess you're right. Since we know what's coming, we'd stand a better chance than the others," Blake agreed grudgingly. "But how are we supposed to get up there? Are we supposed to go inside and look for a staircase up to the roof?"

"Hmm… I think I can get us up there," Celia said thoughtfully. "Let's go a bit closer, first."

* * *

Ten minutes later, a large cloud drifted upwards alongside the Space Needle, invisible to those within the observation tower. A lush, verdant garden floated gently atop the cloud. Standing within the garden, Celia kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Noise.

Blake, on the other hand, was fully preoccupied with the garden. "Clouds don't work this way," he said sourly.

"This one does," Celia said in a miffed tone.

"Why a floating garden, anyways?" Blake asked. "Why not something more believable like a helicopter or something?"

"Do you know how to fly a helicopter?" Celia asked.

"No," Blake admitted.

"Neither do I," Celia said, before resuming her vigil.

Before long, the top of the tower came within sight. A plain red flag decorated with a silver snowflake matching their Player pins awaited them, but six strange black markings were floating nearby, forming a regular hexagon centered on the flag.

"Look," Celia murmured.

"Those look just like that sigil we saw yesterday, when that Reaper attacked us," Blake nodded. "Can you bring us right up to the flag?"

In answer, Celia looked down the side of her floating garden. Her stylus remained hard at work there, redrawing the lines that defined the cloud as they gradually faded, keeping them afloat. "I can," Celia admitted hesitantly. "But once I do, we'll have to fight off the Noise. I can't fight and keep the cloud up at the same time. Do you think we should hop down onto the tower's roof instead?"

Blake considered her suggestion briefly, then shook his head. "I'd rather not. At least this garden is relatively flat. What about the pin that crazy guy from the coffee shop gave you? Can you use that to fight instead?"

"The blank pin?" Celia asked.

"Oh," Blake said.

Celia reached into her pocket for her other pin, the one Hanekoma had called Lightning Rook. "I can try this one," Celia said. "But I don't know if I can keep my stylus drawing at the same time."

"Alright," Blake said. "This is what we'll do. Move us up to the middle so we can grab the flag, then move the cloud so that we're standing right above the tower. That way, if your garden unravels, we'll fall onto the tower instead of all the way down. In the meantime, don't fight unless you have to. Just focus on keeping the garden up as long as you can."

"Okay," Celia agreed, nodding. She looked down at her palm, and saw that her timer now read an hour and fifty minutes. "You ready?"

Blake took his pins in hand. "Ready when you are," he said.

Celia took a deep breath, then mentally prodded her cloud forward. As they gradually drifted towards the flag, she kept her eyes firmly fixed upon the Noise sigils, which remained thankfully dormant.

Before long, they were close enough to touch the flag. Bracing herself, Celia reached for the flag's brass pole.

The effect was immediate. As soon as Celia's hand closed around the pole, all six of the Noise sigils began to throb, glowing with an unnatural shaded light. They seemed to pulse with energy, sending forth black, oozing tendrils. The tendrils wove together as they pulled away from the sigils, coalescing into Noise.

Celia immediately recognized ten of the Noise as the Electro Finches she had battled before. The last Noise was dramatically larger than the bird-like Noise. Its dark red, serpentine body was nearly eight feet long. A pair of leathery wings were stretched between its forelimbs and its back, and its hind legs ended in gleaming, clawed talons. As she eyed the draconic creature, Michael's voice began echoing in her thoughts.

"Grunge Wyvern. A fearsome airborne Noise with powerful talons capable of tearing concrete and a mighty jaw that can crush through steel beams."

"Good to know," Celia said faintly, speaking to no one in particular.

The rest of the Noise scattered as the wyvern emitted a piercing, shrill screech. Then the dragon-like monstrosity barreled at Celia, fangs bared. The young artist leapt aside, and the wyvern crashed face-first into the soft grass meadow. The mighty Noise let out another screech, then angrily bit into the garden, tearing through grass and the stone bricks alike. Again, Celia dove for cover, and a large clump of dirt and stone soared past her and off the Space Needle to fall out of sight.

"Kill it quickly," Celia pleaded with Blake, though she knew he could not hear her. Experimentally, she tried reaching out to her partner mentally, and though she still felt the same murky presence that she had felt upon forging her pact with Blake, she received no other response.

The wyvern swooped again, tearing two long gouges in the garden as it flew past. Thankfully, despite its speed, the larger Noise was not nearly as maneuverable as the Electro Finches, and Celia had little trouble staying ahead of it.

Unfortunately, the smaller Noise didn't stay clear of the battle for long. The bird-like creatures began darting through the wyvern's wake, pecking at Celia as she desperately scrambled away from them. Several of them disappeared as they approached, but one managed to cut in front of Celia, tackling her hard.

With a pained cry, Celia stumbled and dropped backward to the ground. Then, sensing danger, she forced herself to roll to her side, tumbling towards the edge of the garden. She felt a rush of wind as the wyvern glided by, its jaw only inches away from her. Then the wyvern's heavy wing plowed into her, buffeting her painfully and pushing her further until she was on the verge of falling from the floating garden.

The powerful Noise banked hard, then prepared to charge again. With the flock of smaller Noise closing in as well, Celia knew she wouldn't be able to elude the Noise for much longer. She brandished her Lightning Rook pin at the wyvern, doing her best to concentrate on both it and her stylus.

Waves of forked lightning erupted from her palm, glowing electric blue and crackling loudly as it bore into the Grunge Wyvern and the two nearest Electro Finches. Both of the smaller Noise disintegrated instantaneously, while the wyvern reeled backward, twitching as the deadly current coursed through it.

At first, Celia thought to finish off the wyvern, but the sound of wings flapping behind her turned her around instead. Her second bolt arced outwards and caught the rest of the Electro Finches as they approached, neatly blasting them all out of the sky.

With the smaller Noise eradicated, Celia rounded upon the wyvern once more. The large Noise was nowhere to be seen, though, and in its place stood Blake, a pin clenched tightly in each of his fists.

"Damn, that sucker was _tough_ ," Blake groaned. He glanced over at Celia and frowned. "Where's the flag?"

When Celia notice that the flag was no longer in her hands, her heart skipped a beat. She looked around frantically, and to her relief, she spotted the flag lying on the grass a few feet behind Blake. "Right here," she said, walking over to retrieve the flag. "Sorry, I sort of lost track of it during the fight," she apologized sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," Blake said absently, watching the Noise sigils carefully. This time, the unusual markings didn't react when Celia touched the flag, and remained dormant even as the garden drifted away from them and began descending back towards the ground below.

* * *

"One flag down, two to go," Celia said, stepping down from the floating garden. Even with her creation lying flat against the ground, the drop was a bit steeper than she anticipated, and she nearly lost her balance. As soon as she recovered, she glanced down at her palm. "And we still have an hour and a half. Where to next?"

Instead of hopping down as Celia had done, Blake gestured with one of his pins, vanishing for a second before reappearing safely on the ground. "I think we should lie low for a while," Blake said cautiously. "Remember what Trevor said?"

"About someone placing a bounty on us?" Celia asked, frowning. "I think he was just trying to scare us."

Blake shook his head slowly. "I don't think so," he said. "He wasted so much time making sure we'd be the ones who'd trip his little trap. He even warned us what was coming so that we wouldn't be scared to try it. For some reason, a small chance at erasing us was worth more to him than all the players he could have potentially erased."

"Maybe he was lying about needing to erase Players," Celia guessed with a shrug.

"Even if he's just commanding Noise and erasing Players for fun, he's still targeting us specifically for some reason," Blake pointed out. "I think he was telling the truth, and that the Conductor he mentioned really does want the two of us gone for some reason."

"Who's the Conductor?" Celia asked, frowning thoughtfully. She thought the title sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"No idea," Blake admitted. "Do you think it could be that blond fellow? Michael?"

"No, not Michael," Celia said right away. "He called himself something else yesterday, remember? The Producer, I think." Then, as she thought of Michael, she remembered the first time they had met with their mysterious guardian, and the other man Michael had been arguing with. "Wait a moment. Remember that crazy guy in black that was talking to us before Michael showed up? He called himself the Conductor, didn't he?"

"Crazy guy in black?" Blake echoed. Then his eyes went wide. "You mean that nutcase who no one could understand? The Japanese guy?"

"Yeah. The one who kept spouting nonsensical math terms," Celia said.

"Nonsensical. That's a good word for him."

Celia and Blake both turned to the speaker, an unfamiliar, formally-dressed middle-aged woman with the wings of a Reaper.

"Another Reaper. Just what we needed," Blake groaned. "Are you here to pick a fight with us, too? Like your buddy, Trevor?"

"Ah, you've met Nguyen, I see," the Reaper said sympathetically. "He's a real piece of work, isn't he? No, you two have nothing to fear from me. I'm a Support, not a Harrier."

"A Support?" Celia asked curiously.

"We give the Game structure, in accordance to the Game Master's orders," she explained. "Throw up a few walls, add a few non-lethal challenges here and there, pass along hints to the Player when needed, and all that jazz. My name's Selena."

"I'm Celia. It's nice to meet you, Selena," Celia greeted politely, relieved to learn that at least one of the Reapers wasn't trying to kill them.

"Why are you here, then, if you're not trying to erase us?" Blake demanded suspiciously.

"The Game Master is growing impatient," Selena replied. "Nguyen was supposed to place his flag and lead the nearest six Players to it within the first hour. Since he did not, the Game Master asked me to guide other Players to the flag instead."

"It's just like yesterday," Celia mused. "I guess the Game Master has a sense of fair play about all this, huh?"

"Unlike the Conductor, if he's sending his Reapers after specific Players," Blake grumbled.

"Is he?" Selena asked, surprised. "That's odd… I'm pretty sure he's not allowed to do that. I don't think the Game's outcome affects him in any way, either. He chooses the Reapers, but after that, the Game is supposed to belong wholly to the Game Master."

"You don't know why he's sending Harriers after us, then?" Celia asked.

"I don't. Sorry," Selena answered, shaking her head. "Truthfully, no one knows what's really going on in that man's head. But if it's any comfort to you, no one else should be coming after you today. Nguyen left all of his Noise around his flag, and Dolphus already used all his Noise defending his flag, too."

"That means the other Players should already have the second flag," Blake reasoned.

"Selena, you said that you were here to lead the other Players to Trevor's flag, right?" Celia asked. "Since Blake and I already retrieved it, do you think you could lead us to the nearest Players instead?"

Selena pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I suppose I could, but that seems almost too easy. Tell you what, if you two can catch me, I'll lead you to some of the other Players. I'll even point you all towards the last flag. Deal?"

Celia thought Selena's offer sounded too good to be true, but before she could say anything, Blake spoke up first. "Deal," he agreed almost immediately, before lunging for the Reaper with both arms outstretched.

Selena was too fast for him, though. With the slightest flicker of her wings, she fell back several steps, watching in amusement as the brown-haired teen tumbled helplessly to the ground. "Smooth," she remarked dryly. As Blake clambered back to his feet, the Reaper turned and began gliding away.

With an outraged cry, Blake charged after the escaping Reaper, leaving Celia with no choice but to chase after him.

* * *

"Blake, wait!" Celia gasped, panting for breath as she desperately tried to keep up with her partner.

"She's gaining on us!" Blake protested.

"You're not going to catch her like this," Celia insisted tiredly. "Look!"

Selena continued drifting just ahead of them, flying backwards so she could keep an eye on their progress. When their gazes met, the Reaper smiled and winked.

"She's just clowning around and wasting our time," Blake groaned. "Damn it!" He ground to a halt, allowing Celia to catch up at last.

A block ahead of them, Selena came to a stop, too, and eyed them curiously. "You aren't giving up, are you?" she called.

"Do you think we can split up and trap her between us?" Celia murmured.

Blake shook his head. "I don't think so. There's only two of us, and she'll see that coming from a mile away," he said. "Can you draw something that'll help us catch her?"

"Like a car?" Celia offered.

"Yeah, sure. Wait, no, not just any car. Make it something fast. A sports car, like a Ferrari or something," Blake instructed.

"Alright," Celia agreed hesitantly, afraid to admit she had no idea what distinguished one sports car from another. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the sportiest-looking car she had seen before, visualizing each of its sleek contours.

When she opened her eyes, she found the bright red vehicle in front of her, gleaming in the sunlight. Celia then glanced over at Selena, who seemed quite impressed. "Good enough?" she asked Blake.

Blake nodded wordlessly, then swung the passenger side door open.

"Wait! Aren't you driving?" Celia called.

Blake paused. "I can try," he said reluctantly. "But I've never driven before."

"You've never driven before?" Celia echoed incredulously. Her heart sank as she glanced again at Selena, who had resumed flying away from them. "Never mind, just get inside," Celia decided, climbing into the driver's seat. The car's engine then emitted a low and steady rumble, before suddenly coming to life.

"You know how to drive, don't you?" Blake asked nervously.

"Of course I do," Celia said irritably, deliberately not mentioning that this was her first time driving since moving for college. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she likely wouldn't be able to hit anyone, anyways, then stepped firmly on the gas.

Celia quickly found that her summoned car was every bit as clunky and uncomfortable as she had imagined. At least it was fast. Despite nearly losing control after each turn, and driving through almost every other vehicle on the road, they were quickly gaining on the fleeing Reaper.

"Celia…" Blake began to interrupt.

The car's front right tire struck the curb, jouncing them both violently. "Not right now," Celia snapped.

"But…"

"Not now!" Celia insisted, her attention focused solely on Selena, who was now less than fifty feet ahead of them.

As she began closing the rest of the gap between them and the Reaper, Celia began wondering what they'd do after catching up. That line of thought came to an abrupt end a second later, when the steering wheel suddenly became unsubstantial.

Celia realized her mistake immediately, but it was far too late to try to salvage the vehicle. Instead, she guided her stylus ahead of them, hoping to draw something in time to cushion their fall. The rest of the car seemed to become intangible, and Celia and Blake both screamed as a unpleasant, soaring sensation greeted them.

A soft surface broke their fall, but their forward momentum carried them tumbling across the padded mattress and down to the rough asphalt beyond.

"You alright?" Selena asked, taking Celia's hand and helping her to her feet.

"I… I think so," Celia said faintly.

"Good. My boss seems pretty reasonable so far, but I doubt he'll take kindly to hearing that I accidentally erased a couple of his Players," Selena shuddered. She then stepped over to Blake's side, offering him a hand as well.

Blake groaned, but made no move to rise.

"Up and at them, kid. You're still on the clock here," Selena urged, her voice quivering nervously. She knelt down by the teen's side and nudged his shoulder lightly.

As soon as he felt the Reaper's touch, Blake sat bolt upright. He caught Selena by the wrist as she tried to leap away. "Second time's the charm?" he grinned. "Where's those other players that you mentioned, Reaper?"

Selena rolled her eyes and turned to Celia. "Is he always this charming?" she asked sarcastically.

Celia only shrugged noncommittally.

"Well, a deal's a deal," Selena sighed. She gestured over Blake's shoulder, and both Celia and Blake turned to see two Players racing towards them.

"Laura! Vivian!" Celia called, recognizing the two women at once.

"Enjoy your little reunion," Selena offered. "When you're ready, the last flag is waiting for you down at the market. The Game Master placed that one there personally, though, so be on your guard."

"The market?" Celia asked, but when she turned to face Selena once more, she found that the Reaper had already disappeared amidst the bustling streets.

"Celia!" Laura called, reaching Celia and Blake at last. Her partner, Vivian, caught up a moment later, and seemed to be short on breath. Laura eyed Celia calculatingly, noting her disheveled clothing. "Was that Reaper harassing you and your partner?" she guessed.

Celia shook her head quickly. "No, Selena's alright, I think," she said. "She led us to you two, and even gave us a hint about where the last flag might be."

"Last flag?" Vivian asked, surprised.

"We've got one here," Blake said, holding up the red flag they had retrieved from the top of the Space Needle. "And that Reaper told us that another flag had already been found."

"Yeah, we were there," Laura nodded. "Vivian and I were searching for the flags along with several others. We found one that was just like yours, only blue, but the Noise guarding it erased four Players."

"How many of us are even left?" Blake frowned.

"Including you two, at least ten," Vivian replied. "Probably quite a lot more."

"Did you see Graham and Jason?" Celia asked, fearing the worst.

"Graham's the blond? The fairly good-looking college dude?" Laura asked. "He and his partner were with us this morning. They were the ones who finally got to the blue flag."

"They're pretty strong. I wouldn't worry too much about them," Vivian said comfortingly.

"Yeah, Vivian and I wouldn't have made it through that swarm of Noise yesterday without their help," Laura agreed. "Speaking of yesterday, Celia, were you and your partner the ones who completed yesterday's mission? We saw you two just before the Noise reached us."

"The Noise seemed endless, but then they disappeared all of a sudden. Our timers were gone, but so were you two, and two of the other Players, too," Vivian explained. "Laura and I were afraid the four of you had been erased, but Graham said you probably left to finish our mission."

"I think the Noise got the other two Players," Celia said. "I was going to come help you all with the Noise, but Blake convinced me that we should try to finish the mission instead."

"Really?" Laura asked, surprised. She turned to Blake. "Graham's partner, Jason, kept telling us you ran away."

"Of course he did," Blake said scathingly.

"Smart move, ending the mission like that," Vivian remarked. "There were so many Noise coming at us that we were afraid we'd run out of time before erasing them all."

Blake only shrugged indifferently.

Laura shot Blake an uncertain look, but seemed hopeful nonetheless. "Well, it sounds like things are working out between you two, after all," she said.

"I'd say so," Celia agreed, despite her own remaining misgivings regarding her partner. Then, remembering their mission, she looked down at the timer on her hand. "Fifty minutes left. We'd better get going," she said.

"Okay," Laura said. "Where to?"

"Selena mentioned a market," Celia said. "Do you think she meant Pike Place?"

"Probably," Vivian said. "That's really the only noteworthy market around here."

"That's nearly half an hour of walking away from here, though," Laura said worriedly.

"It'll be less than that for us, since we don't have to stop for traffic," Vivian pointed out. "But we'd better get going, anyways."

Celia briefly considered offering to draw another car, but changed her mind when she saw that her partner looked rather worse for the wear from their first crash. Instead, she only nodded and followed after Laura quietly, checking back periodically to ensure that Blake was still following.

* * *

When she spotted the familiar street of Seattle's most famous public market, lined with numerous colorful booths on both sides, Celia instinctively looked down at her palm again. Half an hour left.

"Another one?" Vivian exclaimed disbelievingly. "How does the hooligan behind this nonsense keep getting away with it?"

"Getting away with what?" Celia asked, looking up. She saw almost immediately what the older woman was talking about, though. An assortment of wood, metal, and plastic debris had been heaped neatly into a towering sculpture, fully twenty feet in height. It stood at the edge of the road, overlapping the curb, but oddly enough, none of the passing pedestrians took any note of it.

"These have been cropping up for a few weeks now," Laura murmured.

Celia approached the sculpture tentatively, inspecting it more carefully. Something about the sculpture seemed horribly wrong, but she couldn't quite place it at first.

"What is it, Celia?" Vivian asked, when she noticed the young artist's concerned expression.

"My friend and I were just talking about these the other day," Celia said absently. "One of them had just appeared in front of the Seattle Art Museum." On a hunch, she focused on her Player pin and the nearest pedestrians.

"That makes, what, a dozen of these now?" Laura said.

"This isn't right," Celia said, shaking her head. "The picture I saw showed the junk heap roped off, with tons of people crowding around it, but the people here haven't even noticed this one."

"Really?" Vivian asked, surprised. She reached for her Player pin, too, and began scanning the thoughts of the nearest people.

Meanwhile, Celia had finally noticed something else about the sculpture. "This isn't a new sculpture," she realized aloud. "Look. There's a broken piano in it."

"So what? Are you a pianist or something?" Blake asked, not quite understanding.

Celia shook her head. "This exact sculpture was in the paper a week ago. Or maybe two weeks, now. My friend, Karen, said she thought it was really odd that someone could smuggle a piano into Pike Place Market unnoticed."

"That _is_ strange," Laura agreed. "Haven't the cops been clearing away the sculptures?"

"Definitely," Vivian said. "A couple weeks back, one of these appeared down the street from where I live. The police roped off the block in the morning, and by afternoon, trucks arrived to carry away all the garbage."

"But this one's still here in the Underground," Celia said. "Why?"

"Is it here to hide our flag?" Blake asked impatiently.

Celia scanned the pile carefully, searching for anything that looked like it could be a flag. "I don't think so," she finally said.

"Then forget about it. We have just over twenty minutes left," Blake reminded.

Celia nodded reluctantly and fell in line behind Blake as he began leading the way through the marketplace, Laura and Vivian following closely.

* * *

The first sign of the final flag came in the form of a deafening explosion. The ground shook, and when the four Players saw that none of the surrounding pedestrians of the Realground had noticed the tremors, they knew they were close.

"Over there," Blake called, gesturing towards the door that led to the indoors section of the marketplace.

Another explosion rang out as soon as they stepped aside, and then a third. Following the commotion, Celia and Blake pushed through the crowd, leaving Laura and Vivian behind. When they emerged, they had arrived in a rather isolated corner of the market.

Celia immediately spotted a green flag marked with a silver snowflake mounted upon the distant wall. The source of the explosions quickly became apparent, too, for a pair of Players neither Celia nor Blake recognized were already there, battling a pack of Noise that resembled icy-blue Trance Hounds.

Standing just beyond the pitched battle was a feminine, humanoid figure made of ice. She looked up at Celia and Blake as they approached, smiling coyly at them.

Celia stared at the mysterious figure in shock; the ice woman's elegantly-bound hair and delicate robes seemed intimately familiar, as did her piercing crystalline eyes and cool, confident expression and pose. Noise-like patterns reached all across the ice woman's slender frame, visible beneath her simple and rather revealing clothing.

"Interesting," Blake remarked. "That looks almost like…"

"Shiva, from Final Fantasy," Celia guessed.

Blake glanced at her in surprise. "You've played Final Fantasy?" he asked.

Celia shook her head. "No, but people ask me to draw characters from Final Fantasy all the time," she explained. "Shiva was one of the few that I really enjoyed drawing." She began concentrating on her pin, hoping to learn more about the unusual Noise.

"Glacies Canor. A Noise embodiment of ice itself, which has taken the shape of the legendary Ice Queen."

"Well, that's useful," Celia said helplessly.

"Fifteen minutes," Blake said, glancing at his timer. "I bet we'll have to get through her to get the last flag."

Celia looked over at the other two Players, who looked to be on the verge of defeating the hound Noises attacking them. "Let's do it," she agreed, stepping experimentally towards the frozen Noise.

In answer, Glacies simply gestured at them, and a glacier emerged from the ground. The block of ice shattered, leaving behind another pack of icy-blue Trance Hounds. The other Players and the Noise they were battling vanished, as did Blake.

The hounds growled, and prepared to pounce, but Celia struck first. Her stylus swirled before her, drawing a red circle, which became a molten, jagged sphere of rock. The meteor shot forward and exploded into a shower of fire, incinerating three of the Noise.

As the five remaining hounds scattered and sprinted around the flames, Celia sent forth a second meteor, striking down yet another hound. Two more hounds disappeared abruptly, and Celia dove aside to avoid the remaining two.

The two remaining Noise landed lightly on their feet and turned quickly, but Celia's stylus stabbed at them, buying her just a few more seconds to invoke her Lightning Rook pin. Her final attack proved unnecessary, though, for the remaining two hounds disappeared a split second before her conjured lightning struck home.

Blake reappeared beside Celia, as did the other two Players, who were now in battle with Glacies. But before either Celia or Blake could try for the flag, a swirling storm of sleet flowed out from the powerful Noise. The two Players battling her recoiled momentarily, then were frozen solid.

Then they were gone, and Glacies looked at Celia and Blake challengingly.

Celia shuddered, and involuntarily retreated a step. As she did, she noticed two more battles happening nearby: Laura and Vivian were battling a quartet of Noise to their left, and Graham and Jason, who had apparently caught up to them, were in the midst of finishing a final Trance Hound.

"Hey, Celia," Jason said, once he and Graham had dispatched their last opponent.

Graham acknowledged Celia and Blake with a nod, then continued inspecting the deadly ice Noise. "It looks like that Noise only challenges Players who survive her Noise onslaught," he guessed.

"She's all that's standing between us and the flag. Come on, Graham. Let's flatten her," Jason said.

Graham shook his head slowly. "Celia, Blake, you two got through the other Noise first. You ought to get the first shot against her, too," he offered.

"Why would we possibly want to do that?" Blake argued, but Graham had already backed away to a safe distance.

"Graham, are you sure?" Jason asked his partner uncomfortably.

"Positive," Graham nodded. "Go on, Celia."

Celia was as hesitant to challenge their remaining foe as Blake was, but with only ten minutes left, she knew they didn't have time to argue. "Are you ready, Blake?" she asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Blake grumbled, readying his pins. He punched one fist forward, summoning a magical lance, and Celia found herself standing alone once more.

Unsure of how best to attack her latest opponent, Celia decided to draw a third meteor. The fiery projectile homed in on the seemingly vulnerable Noise, but a thick sheet of ice materialized in front of it. The explosion shattered the frozen barrier, but left Glacies untouched.

Glacies repeated her earlier gesture, and a howling, freezing wind surged forth. Celia willed her stylus forward to intercept, leaving an icy-blue trail that became an exact copy of the barrier her opponent had used to deflect her meteor. Once the fierce gale softened, Celia countered with Lightning Rook, shattering her own shield with a sizzling bolt of lightning. The bolt forked wildly, playing out all over the Noise's seemingly-delicate form.

But the Noise rallied gamely and summoned a shard of ice to her side with a casual wave. It remained still for a second, suspended in midair, before darting forth.

Thinking to melt the freezing projectile while it was in the air, Celia sent her stylus sweeping before her, conjuring a sheet of flames. The partially-melted projectile pierced through the flames, slamming into Celia painfully as she instinctively shielded her face with her arms. She shrieked and stumbled backward, and in her moment of distraction, she nearly missed Glacies readying another sleet-laced gust.

Knowing that she didn't have time to draw another barrier, Celia dove aside again, firing off another bolt of lightning to slow her attacker. Her psych hit its mark, causing the Noise to flinch, and the freezing storm came to an abrupt halt.

Celia quickly pulled herself back to her feet and fired again, sending her opponent reeling. At the same time, she called her stylus back to her side. The stylus traced a small red oval, before outlining it with a jagged blue line. A large egg coated in shimmering sapphire flames appeared, falling into Celia's waiting hands. She lobbed it forward, and though her aim was off and the egg fell about a foot short, it exploded upon impact with the ground.

Waves of searing flames rushed outwards, and a handful of flickering orange strands danced upwards tantalizingly. Celia sent her stylus plunging upwards into the rogue flames, latching onto them and weaving them like a needle with thread. They formed into a fiery bird, which promptly descended upon the Noise with a tumultuous crash.

Celia stared into the burning haze nervously; when the others in the marketplace hadn't reappeared, she knew the battle wasn't quite over, but could only hope that she had at least injured the Noise. The flames gradually cleared, revealing that the powerful Noise had been shaken, but remained very much intact.

Groaning in dismay, Celia looked down at her hand, only to find that her timer had disappeared. "What?" she gasped aloud, her mind racing furiously.

She didn't have much time to consider the implications of her missing timer, though. Glacies thrust both of her arms forward, unleashing a beam of swirling, freezing mist to strike Celia in the chest, chilling her to the bone.

Celia tried to counter again with Lightning Rook, but her arms had gone numb, and the ensuing spray of lightning missed by several feet. She changed tacks quickly, reaching out for her stylus instead. As another punishing beam slammed into her, knocking her off her feet, her stylus drew a long, jagged crease across the ground at the Noise's feet.

A gaping chasm appeared, and an expression of shock flickered briefly across the Noise's serene face. Then Glacies plummeted into the ravine and out of sight.

* * *

When Blake and the others reappeared at Celia's side, she breathed out a long sigh of relief. "I can't believe that worked," she admitted.

Blake looked similarly winded. "I'm glad it did, whatever 'it' is," he said, relieved.

"Me too," Celia agreed. Then, with a horrible jolt, she remembered her missing timer. Her heart sank when she saw that her palm was still free of the silver markings. "But we ran out of time," she said, her voice quivering. "What happens now?"

"We didn't run out of time," Graham said, turning her around. The tall blond stood there, holding a flag in each hand, one blue, one green.

"Once you started fighting that Noise, we saw that she wouldn't be able to keep us from retrieving the flag and finishing the mission," Jason explained.

"We tried to tell you and Blake to run, but you couldn't hear us," Graham added. "That was a neat trick, though, dropping the Noise into the earth like that.

Celia nodded, pleased to hear that they had, by all appearances, survived another day.

Blake, in contrast, was nearly beside himself with rage. "You set us up!" he accused loudly, drawing his pin.

"What? I didn't…" Graham began to protest.

"All that bullshit about letting us take the first shot was just so we'd get that Noise out of the way for you," Blake fumed. "You two-faced, lying bastard!"

"Hey, watch it!" Jason barked.

"Blake, that's not what happened," Graham insisted, remaining calm. "I just saw an opportunity to end the mission, and took it. Isn't that what you and Celia did yesterday when you ran off?"

"Ran off?" Blake sputtered indignantly. "We didn't run off. We were just the only ones smart enough to see that the Noise were just a huge waste of time. If we fought the Noise there with you, we would have all failed the mission!"

"I know," Graham acknowledged. "We're all on the same side here, Blake. What matters is that we get the missions done with. I wasn't trying to throw anyone under the bus back there. I was only thinking that if you two could erase the Noise hounds faster than we could, you could erase their master more quickly, too."

"Oh, sure you were," Blake said sarcastically. He rounded on Celia. "Celia, you aren't buying this crap, are you?"

Celia hesitated. She wasn't any happier than Blake about being made into a decoy, but at the same time, it truly seemed to be an honest mistake, and an innocuous one, at that. "What matters is that the mission is over with, right?" she asked in a conciliatory tone.

Blake rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, gritting his teeth in frustration. Then, as if he could not stand Graham's presence any longer, he turned and stormed away.

"He has a bit of an anger management issue, doesn't he?" Laura commented quietly, glancing sympathetically at Celia.

"A bit?" Jason echoed derisively, shaking his head. "The kid's a straight-up psychopath."

"He's might just be stressed out. Can you really blame him, given the circumstances?" Vivian suggested kindly. "This game's driving us all mad. I know I'm halfway to breaking myself."

"That jackass was broken even before he died," Jason fumed.

"I think I had best go after him, anyways," Celia said worriedly. "If we run into any more Noise before the day ends, I won't be able to fight them off alone."

"We can keep you safe," Graham offered.

Celia shook her head. "Thanks, Graham, but I can't let him get erased either, remember?"

"Oh, right. Of course," Graham said. "Good luck, then."

"Thanks," Celia said again, before running after her wayward partner.

* * *

Just when Celia was beginning to wonder if Blake had turned and gone a different direction, she spotted him sitting at the base of the bizarre junk pile sculpture they had passed by earlier. "Hey, Blake," she called.

Blake looked up and frowned. "What are you doing here? I thought you wanted to stay and talk with your friends," he said.

"We're partners, aren't we?" Celia reminded. "We need to stick together, in case the Reapers come calling again. Though, honestly, we should try to stay with the others, too. Safety in numbers, you know?"

"You're too trusting," Blake grimaced.

"You don't really think Graham was trying to put us in danger, do you?" Celia asked unhappily.

"He and his partner are supposed to be really strong. His partner was raring to go, too, only Graham held him back. Don't you think that's a bit strange?" Blake pointed out. "Why would he possibly think we'd care about who got the first chance to erase that Noise?"

"Maybe he's more like Jason than he pretends," Celia suggested. "They were friends before they died, weren't they? Jason's always eager to act. Maybe he's the same way himself, and assumed we were like that, too."

"That's a bit of a stretch, but fine. What about yesterday?" Blake asked.

"What about yesterday?" Celia asked, puzzled.

"When we were trying to solve that riddle, I mentioned that we might have to play against other Players. Graham looked quite sure that I was wrong," Blake said.

"Well, you _were_ wrong," Celia said, not understanding Blake's point.

"I was," Blake admitted. "But how did he know that? And how did he and Jason know about the rules prohibiting Reapers from attacking Players and vice versa? Or about the limits on how much Noise the Reapers can use?"

"One of the Reapers probably told them," Celia suggested reasonably. But even as she spoke, she remembered her first encounter with Graham, and how he seemed to be fully aware of what was going on.

"What is it?" Blake asked, noticing the change in her expression.

"Back when we were in that office, Graham already knew about the Reapers' Game," Celia realized aloud. "When I asked him where we were, he promised to explain everything if we got 'that clown _again_ '. Again, he said. He already knew about the Game, and he had already met the Conductor, too."

Blake blanched. "Are… are you sure?" he asked.

Celia nodded numbly. "I'm positive," she said.

"That cinches it, then," Blake said grimly. "Graham's definitely up to something, and his partner's probably in on it, too. I bet you they're both Reapers."

"You think they're Reapers?" Celia asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Sure. How else would they know so much about the Game?" Blake asked. "You've got to admit, it's pretty suspicious. Face it: until we know exactly what the Reapers are, and what they are and aren't allowed to do, we can't rule out the possibility that some of them are right beside us pretending to be Players."

As much as she wanted to, Celia found that she couldn't refute her partner's reasoning. Then, an even more alarming possibility occurred to her. "You're right. It is pretty suspicious," she agreed with Blake carefully. "But they weren't the only ones acting strangely today."

Blake gave her a confused look, but her pointed stare got the point across. "You think _I'm_ a Reaper?" he asked, shocked.

"Not really," Celia admitted. "I'm not even really sure what a Reaper is. Maybe I _should_ be worried about Graham and Jake, but right now, I'm more worried about you. Two days ago, you were blaming me for both of our deaths, and you spent most of yesterday sulking and telling me how stupid I was."

Blake shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze.

"You've been acting totally different today," Celia went on. "I'm not really complaining… but I need to know, Blake. Why the sudden change in heart?"

Blake didn't respond for several seconds. When he finally spoke, he did so in barely more than a whisper. "I hated you," he admitted.

Celia winced. "I… I know. You made that pretty clear," she said.

Blake shook his head. "I don't even really know why. I was just so angry with you. I tried to forget about it – I _did_ forget about it, at least for a while, anyways – but then I woke up that morning, and it all came back to me… and I… I just…" he said, struggling for the right words.

"You killed me," Celia said evenly.

"I did," Blake admitted. "And got myself killed in the process, too. Then I woke up in that room along with everyone else. I saw you there, and knew what I did to you… and I wanted…" He swallowed. "I wanted it to be your fault. I blamed you for pissing me off in the first place, for being there in the same place where I could find you again. I blamed your friend for shooting me, hell, I even wanted to blame that girl that was with you for… anything. I was ready to blame it all on just about anyone, just so that I wouldn't have to believe how badly I screwed up."

Celia found herself at a complete loss for words. She was angrier than ever with her partner, for killing her, for all of his cruel and hurtful words, and for constantly dismissing her ever since the Game began. She wanted to scream at him, to take out her frustration on someone who most certainly deserved the brunt of it, yet it all seemed entirely pointless.

"You had every reason to hate me right back, but you didn't," Blake went on dully. "You found me, and instead of leaving me to die and finding yourself a different partner, you partnered with me, your murderer, saving me. That just made it feel worse, somehow, so I took it out on you, saying all those horrible things… but you never once argued. You just turned into a complete doormat, apologizing for things that weren't your fault to begin with and trying to make everything work out. I wanted to keep hating you, but I... I couldn't."

" _That's_ why you haven't been an ass to me all day today?" Celia asked incredulously. "You have to be kidding me. Why were you so determined to believe that you didn't do anything wrong?" she demanded angrily.

"Because everything's always my fault!" Blake cried, spinning to face her with tears of frustration in his eyes. "You don't get it, do you? You have no idea what it's like to always be wrong. You have _everything_ – looks, talent, friends, family…"

"You don't know anything about me," Celia interrupted him stiffly.

"I know that there are people out there who cared about you," Blake retorted. "Didn't you wonder why there was only one memorial where we died? My folks are probably still too drunk from celebrating, that's why. I've been a screw-up forever, long before we ever met. Maybe my folks thought I would someday change, or maybe they were only putting up with me because no one else would, but they were running out of patience with me, too."

"I see. And you never once thought to do something reasonable about it? You decided it was better to lie to yourself and everyone else?" Celia asked coldly. "Fine, but that still doesn't answer my question. Why turn over a new leaf now?"

Blake looked away again, unwilling to meet Celia's angry glower. "I was listening in yesterday, when your friend was talking to you by the memorial," he admitted guiltily. "I was already finding it hard to stay angry with you. Then he came along, and at first, I thought I could just be mad at him instead. And then I saw how hurt he was – how hurt both of you were – and still, he didn't blame me at all. He blamed himself for being unable to save you instead, and even felt guilty for killing me."

"What's your point?" Celia demanded testily.

Blake took a deep breath. "My point is that this is all my fault," he said. "I know that now. I killed you. I got myself killed. I took you away from your friends and family. I'm the reason we're both stuck here in this hellish game. I screwed up, badly, but I also lucked out; the Reapers' Game is supposed to be a second chance for all of us Players, but it's something more than that for me. This is my chance to do something… maybe not something right, but something less wrong, at least."

Blake hopped to his feet, briefly dusting off his jeans. Then he forced himself to look his partner in the eyes.

"I'm sorry, Celia," Blake apologized sincerely. "I know my words probably don't mean a whole lot to you at this point, but I owe you an apology anyways. An apology, and also a promise: I'll do anything and everything I can to get you through this game and back to the life I took from you."

* * *

 _Is this what you're searching for?_

 _Are you scared to know the truth?_

 _Now, open your eyes,_

 _Put yourself together…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Transformation.**


	6. Day Four: Harmonic Interlude

**~ Day Four ~**

 **Harmonic Interlude**

* * *

 _Until the time is up,_

 _I can't give up on you,_

 _Before the time is up,_

 _I'll leave all my regrets,_

 _Between the lines of lies,_

 _I am lost again,_

 _Until this time is up,_

 _I'll never give this up…_

* * *

 _Celia looked up reflexively when she heard the coffee shop's door open. When a pair of older women walked through, chatting animatedly with each other, the young artist returned to her work, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt. She knew she was being silly; while she had seen her friend more frequently of late, his now four-day absence wasn't all that unusual._

 _"He must be busy with work," Celia told herself in a soft whisper. Busy, just like she herself should have been, she thought as she stared at her current, half-drawn project. She had received a rather unusual request the night before, not for an ordinary drawing, digital or otherwise, but for a pattern to be sewn onto a dress. Intrigued, she had accepted the request right away, despite having never done anything quite like it before._

 _Reminding herself that she had promised to finish the pattern within three days, Celia returned to her work. Five minutes later, she was so thoroughly engrossed in her labors that she didn't even notice when the door swung open again._

 _"You seem busy today," Faith remarked._

 _Celia nearly jumped out of her seat at the sound of his voice. "Good morning, Faith," she said, trying to sound nonchalant._

 _"Morning," Faith said. He peered over Celia's shoulder curiously. "What're you working on?"_

 _"It's supposed to be a dress. I don't know if I got the proportions quite right, but that can wait until the pattern's mostly finished, I think," Celia said._

 _"A dress? I didn't know you were a seamstress, too," Faith said, surprised._

 _"I'm not. I'm designing this pattern for someone else," Celia explained._

 _"Oh?" Faith asked._

 _"Yeah. I was kind of surprised when I saw the request, too," Celia said, reaching for her keyboard and opening her chat log from the night before. "It seemed sincere enough, but I think the requestor is foreign. Her English isn't very good."_

 _Faith skimmed through the messages curiously. "Huh. Yeah, English isn't her native language."_

 _"How do you know?" Celia asked._

 _"I'm pretty sure I know who this is from," Faith admitted. "I mentioned your work to an old acquaintance of mine. She's a seamstress who does most of her work by hand. She usually uses her best friend's designs."_

 _"Oh. That makes sense. She did mention something about her usual designer being busy," Celia said._

 _"Ah. That must be it. The other day, she was gushing about a new design she found online to everyone who would listen. It reminded me a bit of some of your work, so I sent her a link to your blog," Faith said. "I didn't expect her to actually come to you for a design, though."_

 _"Well, I'm glad she did. This is a lot of fun," Celia said enthusiastically. "And it's nice to do something completely different, for once. So, what have you been up to recently?"_

 _"Just work, really," Faith said. "This week's been a bit crazy, and today was definitely the worst of it. I'm just glad it's Friday. I meant to swing by yesterday and see if you were here, but I just couldn't find the time." As he spoke, he glanced down at his phone. "Honestly, I shouldn't even really be here now. You wouldn't believe how much paperwork I have waiting for me back at the office."_

 _Celia studied her friend closely. It was hard to tell at first, for Faith looked pretty much the same way he always did, but there was an air of weariness about him that made him seem more withdrawn than usual._

 _"Something wrong?" Faith asked, concerned._

 _Celia shook her head quickly. "It's nothing," she said. "So are you heading back, then? I found something the other night I wanted to show you, but if you're busy…"_

 _"Well, I'm already here. I don't think another few minutes would make much of a difference. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?" Faith said, grinning._

* * *

 _When Celia next noticed the time, she was shocked to see that an hour had already gone by. She shifted guiltily in her seat, knowing that she should say something to her seemingly oblivious friend._

 _"What is it?" Faith asked, noticing her discomfort._

 _"I just saw how late it was," Celia admitted reluctantly. "Sorry… I didn't mean to keep you so long."_

 _At her words, Faith checked his phone, then laughed. "Time really flies, doesn't it?" he said, sounding unconcerned._

 _"Yeah, it does," Celia agreed. "Say, have you eaten already? If not, would you like to get lunch with me before heading back?" she offered. "There's a nice deli nearby, or we could go to this sushi restaurant I've been meaning to try."_

 _"That sounds lovely, but I really shouldn't," Faith said. "Maybe next time?"_

 _"Oh, right," Celia said, trying not to sound too disappointed._

 _As always, Faith seemed to see right through her. He smiled gently. "I really would love to go with you, but my partner's getting back tonight, and I need to get my paperwork sorted out before then."_

 _"Yeah, I understand," Celia said._

 _"Hmm… you know what? I'll probably be stuck in the office until pretty late, but if you don't mind waiting, how about letting me take you out for dinner tonight instead?" Faith offered. "It'll be nice to unwind a bit before the weekend, you know?"_

 _Celia suddenly found herself thoroughly tongue-tied. "I… uh… well…" she stammered._

 _Faith drew a pen from his pockets and began scribbling on a napkin. "Here. You have a few hours to decide; I'll probably be working until eight, at the earliest. If you're interested, just shoot me a text. I can pick you up, too, if you need a ride."_

 _"A-Alright," Celia said. "I'll see you later, then."_

 _"See you later," Faith agreed._

* * *

When Celia awoke, she saw that she had been the first to wake, for a change. Blake was snoozing peacefully on the pavement a few feet away from her. A short distance further, four others who Celia didn't recognize were sprawled out on the ground, similarly asleep.

Celia immediately went for her phone, only to find that the previous day's mission remained her most recent message. Deciding that there was no need to wake the other Players yet, she began surveying her surroundings. They weren't in the same place as before, but the Space Needle could still be seen a short distance away, towering over its surroundings. "That's the Seattle Center," she mused quietly to herself, recognizing one of the nearby buildings. "That means we started out… north, I think?"

Unfortunately, there was little she could do with that information, especially when the mission hadn't arrived yet. With nothing better to do, Celia seated herself on the steps leading up to the Seattle Center. Inevitably, her thoughts drifted back to her surprising conversation with Blake the day before.

Strangely, she couldn't quite remember falling asleep, or much of anything that had happened after Blake's promise to help her through the Reapers' Game. She vaguely remembered trying her best to sound agreeable, despite her mounting annoyance. She also remembered seeing Blake's grateful and determined half-smile, and feeling her hopes renewed. The rest seemed to be an empty, meaningless blur leading into her surreal memories.

Then Celia thought further back, to the conversation she and Blake had had regarding Graham and Jason. At the time, she hadn't been overly concerned about the other two Players, but now she began to worry. Could Graham and Jason really be Reapers? If so, what were they after? None of the Reapers they had met so far had been shy at all about what they were after. "Maybe they aren't Reapers, after all," she muttered.

She was still pondering the matter when her phone alerted her to an incoming text. Five other text tones played at the same time, one from each of the other sleeping Players nearby.

* * *

 _Silence the Key. You have 300 minutes. Fail, and face erasure._

 _\- The Reapers_

* * *

"Silence the key," Celia read aloud quietly, as if she hoped that hearing the words aloud would make their meaning clear.

Another of the Players – a stocky, dark-haired man with long sideburns, a poorly-groomed mustache, and a jagged scar on his cheek – had also just finished reading the mission. "Another riddle. One hell of a rude awakening, if you ask me," he groaned in disgust. "Right up there with waking up naked next to someone you don't remember, and finding a raccoon on your head in the middle of the night, I'd say."

"That raccoon story sounds awfully specific," Celia remarked lightly.

The other Player chuckled and traced his scar with his index finger. "Nice little memento, isn't it? Name's Tom, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Tom. I'm Celia," Celia replied.

"Ah. You're that girl who got stabbed in the middle of the street, right?" Tom asked, shaking his head. "Terrible story, that." He looked at his phone again. "So, this mission of ours… what do you think?"

"I have no idea," Celia admitted. "I guess we could start looking around for a talking key or something."

Tom turned to one of the other Players, an older man with graying hair. "Oy, Paul! Mission's here!"

The man Tom had called Paul came awake with a start, reaching groggily for his phone. The other three Players nearby, including Blake, had also awakened.

"Five hours this time," one of them commented.

"That doesn't bode well for us," Blake said. "The Reapers have been pretty stingy with the time limits so far; even on the second day, we had barely more than half an hour left when we completed our mission."

"Sounds like it's going to be a long day," Tom agreed. "Keys don't usually make much noise, so I guess we'll know our objective when we find it, but where the hell are we supposed to begin?"

"Key might be someone's nickname," Paul suggested, speaking up at last.

"That could be it," Celia said thoughtfully. "On the first day, there was an invisible barrier of some sort keeping me away from the Space Needle. One of the Reapers let me and my partner through once we formed a pact. Maybe he's the key that the riddle is talking about."

"He?" Tom frowned. "I remember that barrier, but the Reaper guarding it was definitely a gal. What was her name again, Paul? Sarah?"

"Selena, I think," Paul replied.

"Selena? You saw Selena by the barrier on the first day?" Celia asked, puzzled. "Oh! I guess we must have been approaching from different directions, and ran into different Reapers," she reasoned.

"That might be it," Tom agreed.

"So we still have no idea who or what we're looking for," another Player, whose name Celia didn't know, grumbled.

"It's a start, at least," Celia said bracingly. "Maybe if we can find one of the Reapers, he or she'd be willing to clear things up for us a bit."

"But if the mission _is_ talking about a Reaper, how exactly are we supposed to silence him? Do we try to erase him?" Tom asked doubtfully.

"One step at a time," Paul suggested. "I'm sure it'll become clear eventually."

Meanwhile, Blake had strayed from the others. He stood silently about half a block away, and seemed to be lost in thought.

"Excuse me," Celia said, extricating herself from the conversation and moving to her partner's side. "Good morning, Blake."

"Morning," Blake replied.

"Something on your mind?" Celia prodded, when Blake didn't say anything else.

"Noise, he said. Keys don't usually make much noise," Blake said, echoing Tom's earlier words.

"He? You mean Tom?" Celia asked. "He's a Player, just like us. I don't think he knows anything more than we do."

"That's not what I mean," Blake said, shaking his head. "Silence means to make something quiet, right? Or to put it another way, it means getting rid of all the noise."

"Oh, I see!" Celia said, catching on.

"If I'm right, then the Key isn't a person or an actual key. It's a place," Blake continued. "Is there a Key Street around here somewhere?"

Celia's eyes lit up. "No, but the KeyArena is just a few blocks down from here," she said excitedly.

"The what?" Blake asked, frowning.

"The KeyArena. You know, that big arena where they hold basketball games and concerts?" Celia prompted.

Blake stared at her blankly. "Never heard of it," he admitted.

"Really? I thought you were a local," Celia said.

"I am, but I don't get out much," Blake said. "It definitely fits, though. I just hope I'm right about the Noise. If they're holding a concert there today, I don't see how we can hope to make them be quiet."

"Especially when they can't even see us," Celia agreed. "Let's tell the others, then we can head over and take a look."

Blake looked at the other four Players doubtfully, but quickly relented. "Yeah. This arena sounds pretty big. We might not be able to clear it out in time, even with the Reapers giving us five hours."

* * *

Celia led the way towards one of the larger streets nearby, hoping that the way to the arena would be clearer from there. Surprisingly, the road there was teeming with people of all ages, mostly walking in the same general direction. At first, the wild throng did not appear to be much of an obstacle to the Players, who could walk through unimpeded. However, it didn't take long for Celia and Blake to lose the other Players in the chaos.

"Is this place always this crowded?" Blake said, nearly shouting to be heard over the constant chattering.

"I don't think so?" Celia said, sounding unsure.

Celia had spoken too softly, though, and Blake's face screwed up in confusion as he strained to hear her. "What!?" he hollered.

Celia only shook her head, silently praying that Blake's guess was right. Erasing Noise, she could handle; convincing a few thousand pedestrians to be silent, not so much.

Afraid that sooner or later, she and Blake would be separated, too, Celia decided it best to move away from the crowd. "This way!" she instructed loudly, leading Blake towards the side of the road.

Once they were clear of the other pedestrians, Blake turned back with a frown. "Where are the others?" he asked.

"No idea," Celia admitted. "They know where we're going, though." In spite of her words, she, too, began scanning the crowd in search of any familiar faces. Instead, her eyes settled upon a decorated sign. "Blake, look over there," she said.

"Bite of Seattle. Seattle's Annual Food Festival. July 18th to July 20th," Blake read aloud.

"Today's the 20th," Celia said. "That explains why there's so many people here today."

"That sign says it's being held in the Seattle Center. That's not the KeyArena you were talking about, is it?" Blake asked pleadingly.

"No, the Seattle Center goes around the arena, I think," Celia said. "But I think they're something else going on today, too. Look over there, up on that light post." She pointed up towards a banner depicting a fierce, spectral-looking woman with pale blue skin. "It looks like there might be a convention of some sort happening nearby," she guessed.

"She looks familiar," Blake said thoughtfully.

"Really? Is she a character from that game you play?" Celia asked hopefully, wondering if it would give them an advantage to know more about the event happening in the arena.

"You mean League? Nah, she's definitely not a League champ," Blake said, shaking his head. "I'm sure I've seen her before somewhere, though."

"Oh well," Celia said, mildly disappointed. "Let's keep going. Maybe it'll make more sense when we reach the arena."

The two of them set off once more, moving parallel to the packed streets. However, they hadn't gone too much farther when Blake, who had started pulling ahead of Celia, stopped abruptly as if he had walked straight into a wall. He fell backwards, landing painfully on his rear, and looked up in astonishment. "What the hell?" he cried angrily.

Celia advanced cautiously, holding up her hand in search of the unseen barrier. Sure enough, she found herself stopped, her hand pressing against some smooth, invisible surface. "It's just like the wall I ran into on the first day," she said. "I told you about it, but you didn't believe me. Remember?"

"Thought you were making that shit up," Blake grumbled. "So, now what?"

Celia began looking around for any sign of the Reapers. "Now we search for whichever Reaper is keeping…" she started saying, trailing off when she spotted a familiar, slender Japanese man in a red hoodie. "Oh, no."

"Is that the one?" Blake asked.

Celia nodded numbly. "I ran into him on the first day, too, but he doesn't…"

But Blake had already started towards the Reaper, without listening. "Hey, you. Drop the barrier," he demanded.

The Reaper, predictably, answered in rapid Japanese.

Blake stared at the Reaper blankly, then turned to Celia.

"Don't look at me. I don't know any Japanese," Celia said, shrugging.

"Really? You look sort of Japanese," Blake said.

"My mother was Japanese," Celia admitted. "But she always spoke to me in English."

"And you never learned any Japanese yourself?" Blake asked, disappointed. "None at all?"

"I grew up in Canada," Celia said stiffly. "I know some French. How many languages do _you_ know?"

"Yeah, okay, I get it," Blake said hastily, avoiding her question. He turned back to the Reaper. "So the guy who's keeping us out doesn't speak our language. Perfect. Just fucking perfect."

"You'll have to forgive Tenho. I'm pretty sure the boss sent him out here as a joke."

Celia and Blake turned to find another man striding towards them. He, too, wore a hoodie, but his was black, and he also wore a red scarf which obscured most of his face. His voice was muffled, but he spoke with an unmistakable Japanese accent. A pair of spiky black wings protruded from his back, marking him clearly as another Reaper.

"We'll forgive him if he lets us through this damned… whatever the hell this is," Blake said, gesturing towards the invisible wall in frustration.

"Oh, we can't do that," the newcomer said. "You want past this wall? Then we've got a little challenge for you."

"What sort of challenge?" Celia asked cautiously.

"Doesn't really matter," Blake interrupted. "Bring it on, Reaper."

The Reaper in the black hoodie nodded, and began mumbling to himself quietly. "Now… how does this go again?"

"Hurry it up. We haven't got all day," Blake demanded impatiently.

"Ah! That's right. Here we go, then," the Reaper declared. "Like a bolt from the blue, it's time for the Reaper Review! And away we go! Question 1! What event is happening in the Seattle Center today?"

Blake stared at the Reaper incredulously. "Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?"

"The Bite of Seattle," Celia answered quickly, remembering the sign from earlier.

"Interesting. Question 2! Which Reaper is dangerously obsessed with board games?"

"How are we supposed to know that!?" Blake fumed.

"Wilson," Celia replied. "He's the Reaper we faced on the second day, remember? The one Michael called the Game Master?" she explained, when Blake rounded on her in surprise.

"Wilson, eh?" the Reaper remarked lightly. "On to question 3!" He paused, though, and began scanning their surroundings, as if searching for something.

"You don't have a third question, do you?" Blake asked dryly.

"Of course I do! Just… uh… one second… over there!" the Reaper said, pointing towards the Space Needle. "What is that tower called?"

"That's the best you could do?" Blake groaned. "You Reapers already sent us there for our first mission, you idiot!"

"H-Hey! I'm not from around here. Cut me some slack, dude!" the Reaper protested.

"That tower is the Space Needle," Celia answered patiently. "What's your next question?"

The Reaper shook his head. "That's it. There's only three questions. Okay… the results are in! Reaper Review, Lesson 1! Survey says… you pass! So pass on through. But! Though you may forget the Review, rest assured, it remembers you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Celia asked curiously.

"Who cares? These two are the lamest Reapers _ever_ ," Blake grumbled. He began angrily marching onward, only to stumble headfirst into the wall once more. "Damn it! What the hell do you want from us now!?"

"S-Sorry! One second," the Reaper in the black hoodie stuttered, as his companion in the red hoodie laughed. The two exchanged a few words in Japanese. "Okay, you can go through now. Sorry about that."

Blake glared at the Reaper suspiciously, so it was Celia who went first this time, stepping tentatively through where the wall had been. "Let's go, Blake," she urged, when she found the wall gone.

Blake remained where he stood for a moment longer, glowering at the two Japanese Reapers, before marching after his partner in a huff.

* * *

As Celia and Blake approached the arena's main entrance, the streets grew busier still. The pedestrian traffic there was more hectic than before, too, with people going both towards and away from the arena. Most were wearing official-looking lanyards and violet badges.

None of the other four Players they had met earlier that morning were anywhere to be seen, but Laura and Vivian were there, standing by a large sign.

"Celia!" Laura called when she saw Celia and Blake approach. She gestured animatedly at the pair, beckoning them towards her.

"Good morning, Laura, Vivian," Celia greeted. "How're you two doing?"

"Pretty good," Laura said.

"But it's already been almost an hour, and we haven't gotten anywhere with our mission," Vivian noted worriedly.

"An hour?" Celia said with a jolt. She looked down at her palm, and saw that it now read four hours and five minutes.

"Getting through these crowds takes far longer than you'd think, given that we're incorporeal," Vivian remarked.

"Vivian thought that the key in the riddle had to be referring to the arena, so we just followed the crowds here," Laura explained. "I guess you two must have had the same idea, huh?"

"This seems to be a dead end, though," Vivian said unhappily.

"Is it, now?" Blake asked smugly.

"There were thousands of people lining up to get inside this morning. If we're actually supposed to make them be quiet, we're all screwed," Laura said in an irritated tone.

Her partner wasn't as easily annoyed, thankfully. "What're you thinking, Blake?" Vivian asked patiently.

"The word silence could be part of the riddle, too," Blake explained. "I think we're supposed to find and erase all the Noise here."

Laura rolled her eyes. "Do you think we're complete idiots or something? We thought of that already," she informed Blake snidely.

"Then what's the problem? Did you already search the entire arena?" Blake asked.

"The problem is that erasing all the Noise seems just as unreasonable as convincing everyone in the arena to be silent," Vivian explained. "Take a look."

Celia and Blake turned and eyed the teeming throng in front of the building. When she didn't find anything of interest, Celia turned to the large sign instead, which was the same color as the badges many of the nearby people were wearing. "The International 2014," she read quietly aloud.

"I'm looking. What am I looking at?" Blake asked, frustrated.

"Use your Player pins," Laura instructed impatiently.

Celia did as Laura suggested, focusing on her snowflake-adorned pin. When she saw what Laura and Vivian had been referring to, she let out a small gasp.

"What is it?" Blake asked curiously.

"Do as she says, Blake. Focus on your pin and look again," Celia said.

With a sigh, Blake reached into his pocket for his Player pin. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

"See? There has to be thousands of them, at least. Maybe tens of thousands, even," Laura said.

Celia nodded in agreement, quickly realizing that Laura wasn't exaggerating. Noise were simply everywhere, in various shapes and forms including many that she didn't recognize. She spotted Trance Hounds wandering aimlessly and following the oblivious pedestrians of the Realground and Electro Finches swooping in and out of the crowds. Then there were dolphin-like Noise swimming through the ground with their dorsal fins protruding, deer-like Noise prancing about in a surprisingly natural and carefree manner, and even a large feline Noise resembling a mountain lion, resting idly on the grass.

"We're definitely not erasing all of them," Celia agreed aloud. "But… why aren't they attacking us?"

"Don't look the gift horse in the mouth, I'd say," Vivian suggested halfheartedly.

"Yeah, no. I'm not going anywhere near that many docile Noise without knowing _why_ they're docile," Blake declared.

"It's because they aren't ours," a dark-skinned man said, abruptly joining their conversation.

"Ours?" Celia echoed.

"He's a Reaper," Blake guessed.

"That I am," the man admitted freely. A pair of black wings appeared behind him, flexing ominously. "I'm Dennis, by the way."

"What are you doing here?" Laura demanded suspiciously, apparently every bit as mistrusting of the Reaper as Blake.

"I'm a Support Reaper. My wall was cleared, so I really don't have anything better to do," Dennis shrugged. "Unfortunately, I'm still stuck here until you Players finish the mission, so I thought I'd come take a look at how things were going."

"Dennis, you said these Noise weren't yours," Celia said. "What does that mean?"

"Noise are normally pretty peaceful towards people in the Underground. They're only supposed to attack Players who lack partners," Dennis explained. "Well, unless you attack them first."

"Bullshit," Blake said derisively. "Noise have been hassling us ever since this game began."

"That's because those Noise were obeying Reapers," Dennis calmly explained. "Mostly it's just the Harriers, but those of us playing Support get some Noise to play with once in a while, too."

"So if these Noise aren't fighting for the Reapers, why are they here?" Celia asked, trying to keep the conversation on track. "What are they, anyways?"

Dennis scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I'm probably not the right guy to ask," he admitted readily. "I'm pretty new at this myself, see? I'll try to explain, though. Noise are like… leftovers. They're made of Soul, just like you and me."

"Soul? So they're dead people?" Blake asked dubiously.

"Not quite. Well, maybe," Dennis said. "Soul is what makes us who we are. Those who die and then get erased break down, and their Soul begins to… lose definition. What's left can then become Noise. From what I hear, Noise exist somewhere between the Underground and the Realground; they take shape here, but are drawn towards the negative emotions of living people, feeding those emotions in turn and making themselves stronger."

"Why are there so many Noise here, then?" Celia asked, eyeing the jubilant crowd. "These people seem pretty excited."

"Anytime there's a large event like this, there'll be Noise, too," Dennis replied. "When so many people are crowded together, some of them are bound to be tired or stressed out. Some of them are going to argue with each other. Even if there are a hundred excited and happy people for every sad and dejected one, the Noise will seek out that one person. Then they'll make those emotions worse, and spread. It's contagious, in a way. That's where you come in."

"Us?" Laura gasped.

"But you just claimed that Noise is inevitable," Vivian pointed out. "If that's true, how can we stop it?"

"I don't think you can," Dennis admitted. "And I don't think the Game Master expects you too, either. He probably only wants you to reduce the Noise around this place to a more normal and bearable level."

"So, we're just erasing Noise randomly until the Game Master is satisfied? That doesn't seem particularly fair," Blake griped.

"Who said the Reaper's Game was meant to be fair?" Dennis laughed.

"Fine," Blake conceded. "But how do we know you're telling us the truth? How do we know you aren't really a Harrier, wasting our time so that we'll fail the mission?"

"Uh… hello, Support Reaper here," Dennis replied sarcastically. "The sooner you guys finish, the sooner I can go home and back to watching Netflix. We don't get signal while we're in the Underground on duty, you know."

"And why should we believe anything you say?" Laura asked, sharing Blake's doubts.

Dennis sighed. "Even if I was secretly a Harrier and lying to you, what would be the point?" he asked. "Harriers are only credited for Players erased by their Noise. I have nothing to gain from you guys running out of time, and if these were my Noise, they wouldn't be wandering around idly now, would they?"

"I think he's telling the truth," Celia cut in, before Blake and Laura could question him further.

"Thank you, Miss…" Dennis began.

"Celia," Celia volunteered.

"Thank you, Celia," Dennis said. "Look, I know I'm kind of rooting for the wrong side here, but I'm trying to help you guys. Really."

Celia nodded. "Sure. Thank you, Dennis."

Dennis gave her an odd look, as if he wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not. Then he finally nodded. "Good luck," he said, before turning and strolling away.

"So, now what?" Laura asked when the Reaper was no longer in earshot.

"Now we get to work, I suppose," Vivian offered.

Celia scanned the hordes of Noise again with her Player pin. "Yeah," she agreed with a resigned sigh. "We'd better get started."

* * *

As the nearby Noise vanished and Blake reappeared beside her, Celia did her best to appear optimistic. "Six more down. That makes thirty exactly."

"With no end in sight," Blake said grimly. "This isn't working, Celia."

"Sure it is," Celia said bracingly. "How many of them could there really be?"

In answer, Blake clutched his Player pin and looked around. "I count at least eighty, which is quite fascinating considering there were around seventy before we started our last battle."

Celia activated her own Player pin, and to her dismay, Blake was right; another pack of Trance Hounds had wandered into their vicinity, more than replacing those that had just been erased. A Grunge Wyvern had arrived, too, perching itself nonchalantly atop of a nearby booth. The vendor inside continued selling his funnel cakes, but seemed to grow more stressed and frustrated with each passing second. "He looks like he's about to snap," Celia muttered to herself.

"Who?" Blake asked curiously.

"Never mind," Celia said quickly. Given Dennis's warning about negativity attracting Noise, the distressed vendor was certainly a problem. Unfortunately, he was also only one of dozens of people who seemed annoyed, tired, or angry.

Blake stared distastefully at the nearest Noise, an Electro Finch resting atop a nearby pole. The Noise only stared back at him blankly, tilting its head curiously. "We need another plan," Blake said. "We're already down to only three hours."

"We'll start erasing them faster, then," Celia promised determinedly. "We could still erase hundreds of them before we're out of time."

"Yeah. Too bad there would be thousands left to erase," Blake reminded her grimly. "At the rate we're going, there'll be more Noise then than when we first started."

"It's not like the Noise are just appearing out of thin air. They have to be coming from somewhere," Celia argued. Even as the words left her mouth, a pair of large, ursine Noise materialized a short distance away. Celia and Blake both stared at the closer Mosh Grizzly in silence for several seconds.

"You were saying?" Blake asked sardonically, finally breaking the silence.

"Okay, we need another plan," Celia relented. "So, what now?"

When Blake didn't answer, Celia noticed that he was staring intently at the nearby funnel cake vendor. An argument had broken out between the vendor and one of his customers. Some of the others in the line seemed put off by the dispute, and hastily excused themselves. Many more watched the heated discussion with interest.

"The Noise are drawn towards negativity," Blake said, repeating Dennis's earlier warning. He directed his Player pin at the vendor, as if hoping that would make it easier to pry into the angry man's thoughts.

"That man was likely already stressed out from being so busy, and for working in that cramped little booth on such a hot day," Celia observed.

"Then the Noise got to him and made it worse," Blake agreed. "Sounds like he made a rude, off-hand comment to a poor tipper. Hence the argument."

"The Noise might have gotten to his customers, too," Celia guessed. "Now their argument is upsetting even more people, creating more Noise."

"We can't keep fighting the Noise head-on," Blake realized. "We have to stop the Noise at their source."

"But how?" Celia asked. "We can't even talk to these people. How can we keep them from arguing? Besides, this argument can't be the source of all this Noise. Look! Those people are already sorting it out on their own!" She and Blake watched as the vendor's assistant pulled aside, apologizing profusely to the offended customer. The customer looked ready to keep arguing, but her husband stepped in, too. A pair of Trance Hounds curiously followed the couple as they left, but soon, the confectioners' booth resumed its business as if nothing had happened.

"So the Noise didn't come from. It spread to them," Blake said thoughtfully.

"It might spread further, too," Celia added worriedly. "That couple left for now, but they were still upset. Some of the Noise are following them now. They might get into another argument later, with each other or someone else."

Blake looked back to the KeyArena. "Silence the Key," he said, repeating their mission aloud. "The Noise is definitely concentrated around the arena, right? That must be the source we're looking for. Something's happening inside and making these people short-tempered and bitter with each other."

"Let's go back and take a look," Celia suggested. Blake nodded in agreement, and the two of them raced back to the arena's entrance.

* * *

When Celia and Blake returned, they found that the entrance plaza had only grown more crowded in their absence. The Noise population, too, seemed to grow denser as they approached the arena. However, there didn't seem to any disputes in the Realground similar to what they had witnessed back at the confectioners' booth.

"Most of the people chatting with each other seem pretty happy," Celia noted curiously.

"Where could all this Noise be coming from, then?" Blake asked, frustrated.

Celia didn't have an answer for him, and instead approached one of the nearby groups, hoping to listen in.

"I can't believe they managed to throw that," one man was saying.

"I know, right? That was so stupid. They had that game won," another said.

"Did you see how slow they were in that last fight? My grandmother can play better than that," one said scornfully.

Celia listened to their banter for several seconds longer before giving up. "I have no idea what they're talking about," she admitted to Blake.

Blake frowned, but said nothing.

"There might be a basketball game going on, I guess. They still hold college basketball games here, after all, and those guys mentioned something about throwing something. And a game of some sort," Celia went on. "But it didn't really sound like they were talking about basketball, either."

"They're not talking about basketball," Blake said in tone of certainty. "There was a sign out near the entrance, right? Come on. I need to see it."

Blake set off without another word, leaving Celia no choice but to chase after him.

* * *

"I knew it," Blake declared, when Celia finally caught up to him in front of the large sign she had noticed earlier.

"Knew what?" Celia asked.

"The International 2014," Blake said, pointing at the sign. "This isn't a convention. It's a tournament."

"A tournament?" Celia asked curiously. Then her eyes widened with understanding. "A gaming tournament? For that game that you play?" She turned and eyed the crowds in awe. "You're telling me all these people are here to watch people play a video game?"

"This isn't for League," Blake said sourly. "It's another game like it, only stupider. The company who made the game throws a shit ton of money at it. It made the news last year with its three million dollar prize pool."

Celia gaped at him. "Three million dollars?" she asked, shocked.

"Stupid, right?" Blake grinned. "Some people were claiming that this year would be even bigger. Over ten million, some said."

"Ten million?" Celia asked, her voice suddenly little more than a high-pitched squeak.

"Like I said, stupid," Blake said derisively. "People have been trying to make these games more like real sports for a while, with teams, sponsors, contracts, and big tournaments. Stuff like that."

"I… I guess that makes sense," Celia admitted.

"The scene's been coming along pretty well, growing nicely and all that," Blake said. "But then you get a company like this. They can't even come up with a good game, let alone run it well. Instead, they put together huge tournaments like this, thinking that if they throw enough cash at it, everything will work out."

Taken aback by the sudden venom in Blake's tone, Celia chose her next words carefully. "It seems to be working for them," Celia noted. "You said this game is like the one you play, right? You know, for something similar to something you like, you really seem to hate it."

"Of course I do," Blake said irritably. "The game is just dumb. It's like League, where the whole point is to kill the enemy buildings… but this game lets you kill your own buildings just to keep your opponents from killing them."

Not quite understanding, Celia only stared at him blankly.

"You get soldiers to help you, too. Minions, we call them. In this game, you can kill your own minions too. And your own teammates," Blake rambled on. "There's really no rules about positions, either. It's like if you were playing soccer, your opponent could choose to have their whole team be goalies."

"Okay, I get the idea," Celia cut him off hastily, having heard more than enough. She surveyed the crowd speculatively. "But however bad this game might be, the people here like it, right? That's why they're here, after all. So if everyone's here to watch their favorite game being played, they should be happy and excited… which most of them are. So, where's all the Noise coming from?"

"From those that aren't happy and excited, I guess," Blake said. He indicated a few individuals sitting alone on the steps or leaning against the walls, as well as a group sitting at the base of the large supporting column holding up the plaza's overhang. "Plus, I bet you anything some of those guys chatting with each other will start fighting before long."

"Really? Why?" Celia asked. Even as she spoke, she spotted one youth angrily storming away from his friends.

"Well, for one, it really is like a sport to these people," Blake said. "Everyone wants to see their team win, but in the end, you're going to have a lot of losers and only one winner.

Celia shrugged noncommittally. It made sense, but it sounded to her like a terribly unhealthy attitude to have.

"Then again, it's often personal," Blake explained. "In a team game, when one person screws up, his whole team pays for that mistake. The people here watching probably play the game themselves, too. When you first start a game like this, you usually want to play with your friends. Then it becomes obvious that some are better than others, and the ones who suck are just bringing everyone else down."

"But it's just a game, isn't it?" Celia asked, not understanding. "Unless you're playing in one of these tournament things yourself, you're just playing to have fun, aren't you? Losing a game shouldn't be that big of a deal."

"Losing isn't fun," Blake answered simply. "Besides, the game ranks you on how well you play, so that you can tell if you're getting better or not. Cost your friends a few games, their rankings go down, and they want nothing to do with you anymore."

Celia grimaced. It didn't make much sense to her that people would value a simple ranking so highly, but there was a trace of bitterness in Blake's tone, and she began to suspect that her partner was speaking from firsthand experience.

"Games like this have a tendency to make people hate one another," Blake said dully. "I guess, if you take a step back from it all, it does seem pretty stupid. Still, I guess that's just the way it is."

"But we have to fix this. That's our mission," Celia reminded him. "Either they're drawing Noise to them or they're creating more Noise. Then the Noise makes it easier for them to get upset with each other, and that brings even more Noise. We have to find some way to stop some of these arguments."

"But how? They can't see or hear us," Blake protested.

"We could try going inside. Maybe there's a snowflake insignia on the arena," Celia suggested.

Blake shook his head, rejecting that idea immediately. "See the badges? There's security guards at the door scanning them. You can't get in without one. Either they can't see us and we'd be no better off inside than we are out here, or they'll throw us straight back outside."

"And I doubt you could simply talk them free of the clutches of Noise, anyways," a serene voice interrupted them.

Celia and Blake turned to find Michael standing beside them.

"Emotions can be tricky," Michael explained. "They are so deeply rooted that most individuals cannot easily distinguish the negative ones from the positive ones. Trying to help someone else reframe their feelings is even more daunting."

"This whole mission is just bullshit, then," Blake complained.

"It is a rather difficult one," Michael admitted. "I'm sure the Game Master will be reasonably forgiving when it comes to evaluating the results. Nevertheless, I will speak with him after the day is over."

"But that would be too late for us," Celia protested. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Players, like Noise, have a strong presence in the Underground," Michael explained. "You can assert that presence through your Player pin. By doing so, you can imprint a thought in someone in the Realground."

"Imprint a thought?" Celia asked curiously. "What does that mean?"

"You can force someone to think of something," Michael explained.

"We can control people's minds?" Blake gasped.

"Probably not," Michael said, shaking his head. "An imprint powerful enough to truly dominate someone's consciousness lies far beyond the scope of a typical Player's abilities. However, even a weak imprint, such as a single word, phrase, or sentiment, may be enough to nudge a living individual's thoughts towards a course more to your liking."

"So we can use our pins to try to make people think more positive," Celia said thoughtfully. "That might be enough to chase some of the Noise away, or at least stop the Noise from coming back."

"Indeed," Michael confirmed. Before he could say anything further, though, a generic text tone rang from his pocket. Surprised, he reached for his phone. A shadow flickered across his normally serene expression as he carefully read the message he had received. "I'm afraid I must be off. Good luck to you, Miss Winter. You too, Mr. Daniels."

"But…" Blake began to protest.

Michael only shook his head and disappeared in a blinding flash of light. Only a single, large white feather remained where he had been standing, drifting lazily down towards the ground.

"Fucking Reapers," Blake grumbled.

"I… I don't think Michael's a Reaper, Blake," Celia said hesitantly, staring at the feather.

"What is he, then?" Blake demanded grumpily.

Celia didn't answer aloud, but Michael's serene demeanor and the unusually elegant feather both spoke of something just as otherworldly as the Reapers, but far less menacing. "Let's give this imprinting thing a try," she finally suggested, forcing herself to focus on their mission.

"I guess we might as well," Blake conceded.

* * *

Deciding that it didn't really matter where they began, Celia approached the nearest person, a pale young man sitting at the side of the road and wearing a dejected expression.

"You or me?" Celia asked, fumbling with her Player pin.

"Go for it," Blake said.

Celia nodded and focused on her pin, fishing for her target's thoughts.

"Some trip this turned out to be. Hundreds of euros spent and gone, and I'm stuck sharing a room with five others, including that one guy who's apparently never heard of a shower. The food here is expensive and terrible and I can't even get any cool souvenirs since the line at the shop is hours long. To top things off, I'm not even going to get to see my team play! What kind of stupid-ass format eliminates half the teams before the main event even begins, anyways?"

Celia tore herself away from the man's internal monologue, feeling dizzy and lost.

"What's his problem, then?" Blake asked.

"Just about everything, from the sounds of it," Celia murmured. "He's European, I think. He spent a lot of money on his trip, and hates it here. Also, it sounds like the team he wanted to watch isn't actually playing?"

"What kind of idiot goes across the world to watch his team play without first checking if his team's actually playing?" Blake asked skeptically.

"I don't know. He said something about a format? Why don't you scan him, Blake? You'll probably understand him better," Celia suggested.

Blake nodded. "Alright." He closed his eyes and seemed to fall into a state of deep concentration.

"America, fuck yeah!" the pale man suddenly blurted aloud, seemingly against his will.

"There we go," Blake said opening his eyes and wearing a satisfied expression.

Celia stared at him in horror. "What… what did you just do?" she asked.

"Well this guy's unhappy here, right? That Reaper, or non-Reaper, whatever he is, said we could inspire phrases and sentiments," Blake reasoned.

"And _that's_ what you decided upon?" Celia asked incredulously. "Blake, that phrase is usually a joke making fun of American stereotypes!"

"It doesn't have to be used ironically," Blake said defensively.

"Maybe not, but…" Celia began.

"More like fuck America," the pale man suddenly cried loudly, hopping angrily to his feet.

"Excuse me?" another passerby, a large and burly man, interrupted in a dangerous tone.

"You heard me," the pale man said bitterly. "No wonder the rest of the world…"

Desperately, Celia reached out with her own pin. "Stop!" she cried aloud, just in case thinking the word wouldn't be enough.

To her surprise, the European man froze, and look as if he was unsure as to what to say.

"Just apologize to him," Celia whispered pleadingly. "I know you're having a bad week, but you don't make your vacation worse."

To her relief, the European man obliged her unheard suggestion. "Sorry, mate. I've been having a rough week."

Celia then directed her attention towards the other man, who appeared to be a local, judging by his Seattle Seahawks t-shirt. "He's a visitor here. You should try to make him feel welcome," she instructed, now feeling slightly more confident.

"I see," the larger man said, his anger slipping away. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

"No. I'm just here on vacation. It hasn't turned out quite the way I thought it would," the European man admitted.

"Ah. The food festival isn't quite what you expected, huh?" the American man asked, now wearing a knowing smile.

"W-Well… no," the European man admitted.

"I can't blame you for that. It's mostly overpriced junk food with some overpriced normal food sprinkled throughout," the American man said with a laugh. "For a food festival, the food really isn't very good. Well, except down at the Alley. Some of the best restaurants in town turn out for that. I'm heading down there to meet with a friend right now, actually. Say, why don't you come with me?"

The European man glanced back at the arena, a yearning look in his eyes.

"Go with him," Celia urged quietly, focusing on her Player pin again. "Your favorite team isn't playing, anyways. Go enjoy your vacation. You can always watch your team play some other day."

"I… sure, I'll come. If you don't mind, that is," the European man said hesitantly.

With that, the two men set off together. Some Noise trailed after them, but many more simply disappeared, and a few more turned away, looking bored.

"Okay, that was pretty cool," Blake conceded. "That seemed like a lot more than a sentiment or a phrase, though. That was like a full-fledged Jedi mind trick from Star Wars."

"That wasn't a mind trick," Celia said wearily. "He was frustrated and disappointed, but he came here to have a good time, after all. He just needed to be reminded of that."

"Maybe, but those imprints were still quite impressive."

Celia and Blake turned to find Graham standing behind them. Jason was standing nearby, too, his Player pin in hand as he focused on someone in the Realground.

"Hello, Graham," Celia greeted.

"Hey there," Graham said. "Jason and I have been going around the arena, showing people how to imprint with their Player pins, but I guess you two have already figured it out."

"Michael came by and explained it to us," Celia said.

"Ah, that would do it," Graham nodded.

"And how did you and Jason figure it out, exactly?" Blake asked suspiciously.

"One of the Reapers taught us. A curious fellow in a black hoodie, who wears a red scarf over most of us his face," Graham replied. "Still, I've never seen any imprints quite as complicated as the ones you just used, Celia. Anytime I try to get more than a few words across, my intent gets completely garbled. You're a natural."

"Alright, I think I broke up the argument those kids were having," Jason interrupted suddenly, joining them. "Maybe not completely, but some of the Noise went away at least. I'd call that a win."

"Good enough," Graham agreed.

"I still can't believe how worked up these people get over a game," Jason grumbled.

"I know. If they want to get worked up over something, it should be something serious, like football. Right, Jason?" Graham added slyly.

"Oh shut up," Jason laughed. "Football's a real sport, unlike this crap." At his words, Blake's eyes flashed menacingly.

Celia instinctively reached for her Player pin, wondering if imprints could work on other Players, and whether she could possibly dissuade another argument. "Please don't," she whispered, forgetting that partner could simply hear her.

Blake gave her an odd look.

"Sorry, Celia. You can't imprint thoughts upon other Players," Graham said pleasantly, understanding her intent at once.

Thankfully, Blake didn't seem upset. "Don't worry. I'm not going to start anything," he reassured Celia, though he paused to shoot Jason another angry glare.

"Thank you," Celia said, before turning back to Graham. "Graham, does that mean the other Players are around here, too?"

"Several of them, at least," Graham replied. "They're all doing the same thing we are, now."

"We've run into sixteen Players now, counting you and Blake," Jason said. Then he began looking around, counting up the nearby Noise. "There's still have an awful lot of Noise nearby, though. I don't know if we'll be able to drive all of them away before we're out of time."

"We were told that the Game Master probably doesn't expect us to erase all the Noise," Celia said.

"Well, that's good to hear," Graham said, nonplussed. "That's no reason to start slacking now, though. Let's get back to work, Jason."

"Right," Jason agreed.

"See you two around," Graham said, before he and Jason moved towards the nearest concentration of Noise.

"We should be going, too. Wouldn't want to get in their way, after all," Blake said.

Celia quickly agreed, seizing the opportunity to separate Blake and Jason. She and Blake walked a fair distance away, following the crowds around the arena, then began homing in on the Noise once more.

* * *

Celia stepped away from her latest target, a teen who looked to be about Blake's age. Her brief glimpse into the boy's thoughts had told her everything she needed to know. "You were right, Blake," she said. "He's just like you, isn't he?"

Blake looked at her strangely.

"Didn't you scan him?" Celia asked.

"I did," Blake said. "It sounds like his best friend stopped playing with him because he was terrible. I told you, it happens all the time."

"Instead of watching the games with his friends, he's here by himself. No wonder he's upset," Celia said. "Why don't you try to cheer him up a little? Imprint something on him that'll make him feel better or something."

"Like what?" Blake asked helplessly.

Celia sighed. "Fine. I'll try it, then," she said, focusing on her own Player pin.

The teen sat up. "Maybe I should just go home," he said to himself. "It's not like I'm watching the games anyways. But… go home, and then what? Play by myself, and lose a bunch of games so that everyone else can make fun of you later? Or not. Come on, Drew, the others aren't even talking to you anymore."

"Drew, huh?" Celia frowned. Then she tried again.

"I guess I could find something else to do," Drew said listlessly. "I still have my old guitar in the closet, I think. I wonder if I still remember how to play. I haven't touched it since Carl and I started…" He swallowed uncomfortably and glanced towards the arena, unable to complete the thought aloud.

"Great. His one other hobby is the one he shared with the friend who's not talking to him anymore," Celia sighed.

Blake winced uncomfortably. "Yeah. Kind of sucks, doesn't it?" he said.

"Blake, you mentioned this earlier. This kid's exact story, pretty much," Celia said. "You've been through something like it yourself, haven't you? You have to have some idea of what could make him feel better."

"I don't," Blake said. "Look, Celia. I… I have been through something like this, yes. But it isn't what you think."

"What is it, then?" Celia asked.

"My friends didn't push me away," Blake admitted. "I pushed them away myself. I had always been kind of a joke to them. I was the kid who'd spend hours studying, and still get the worst passing grades possible. I was terrible with sports, too. In fact, I wasn't really good at anything. Whenever we hung out and did stuff together, no matter what we did, I was awful at it. They never really said anything about it, but it always felt like they were laughing at me between themselves. Then we started playing League, and it was the first time I was actually good at something. It was the first time they were the ones making mistakes, and I got to be the one helping them."

"It sounds like you were having a good time. Why would you push them away, then?" Celia asked, confused.

"I enjoyed it at first," Blake said. "But then I began to feel like they were dragging me down. I thought I could go pro. Here was the first thing I'd ever been good at. I wanted to compete with the best, and have others look up to me for once. I wanted to shut my dad up, after all the time he spent harping on how I couldn't even hold onto a minimum wage job. I started taking the game more and more seriously; hell, I even dropped out of school so I'd have more time to play. But my friends didn't care at all, about the game or about what I was trying to do. They'd hop online and play while drunk or stoned, even. I lost my temper with them, and said a few things I probably shouldn't have. That was the end of that."

"I guess you could have been more careful with your words, but it doesn't sound like your friends were entirely blameless, either," Celia said. "It's hard enough to chase after dreams already. Good friends should be standing by you and trying to help."

"It wasn't their fault," Blake said, shaking his head. "It's not like they were making fun of me or telling me to give it up. They just kept living their lives their own way, and when it clashed with what I wanted to do, I decided I didn't need them anymore. It was mutual, at first: we shut each other out. Later, they tried to reach out to me, and I wouldn't hear any of it. For all I know, they were only trying to apologize. You know what the worst part was, though? The worst of it was, I had only been deluding myself all along. I'm awful at the game. I was only better than my friends because they were even more awful, because none of them cared about getting better. I was never going to amount to anything."

At first, Celia wasn't sure what to say. She still wasn't quite comfortable with her partner being honest with her. In fact, she wasn't even quite over her dislike of him. At the same time, Blake looked so thoroughly dejected and miserable that she found it hard to say anything harsh, however deserved it might be. "Well, at least it's not too late," she finally said. "We can still survive this game. Then you can go back and apologize to them, right? Maybe they'll forgive you."

"They shouldn't forgive me," Blake said, shaking his head. He looked at Drew, who had laid back down, closing his eyes. "I think I know what to tell him now. My friends had the right idea; it's time to move on."

Blake raised his Player pin, but Celia stopped him. "Let me, please," she requested.

"Alright. He's all yours," Blake agreed.

Celia took a deep breath, then began focusing on her Player pin. "Drew, everyone make mistakes from time to time. Maybe you hurt your friend. Maybe he hurt you. None of that matters now. If he needs some space, give him the space he needs, and hope he comes around some day. Until then, don't worry what he, or anyone else, thinks. Just live your own life," she urged aloud, wondering how much of her intent could actually be conveyed through the imprint.

Drew didn't react, and it took Celia a moment to understand that the boy had fallen asleep. Still, her words had had their desired effect, for all of the Noise nearby had disappeared entirely.

"Graham's right," Blake said with a laugh. "You really _are_ good at that."

"Yeah, well, he's also right about me being unable to imprint any thoughts on you," Celia said. "I guess I can only hope that you'll decide to listen to me."

"That's not one of my friends you were just talking to. Even if you could reach any of them, I don't really deserve another chance," Blake said, shaking his head. "I don't even deserve this chance to play the Reapers' Game. I'm only going through with it because you never deserved to be sent here."

"But I'm here anyways, right? I don't think the world we live in really cares about what people do and don't deserve," Celia pointed out. "What good is it to keep lamenting your mistakes? If you regret what you did to your friends, then once we're back in the real world, you should go apologize to them. They might forgive you, or they might refuse to talk to you. Either way, that's just the way it is, isn't it? You have to stop pitying yourself, Blake. Learn from your mistakes, then take your own advice and move on."

"Might I offer you a more realistic alternative?" a silky voice interrupted. "You may be better off savoring what time you have left."

Celia and Blake turned to find a familiar, severe-looking Reaper with vaguely wolfish features approaching them.

"Hello, Bradley," Celia said warily.

"Ah! You remembered me! How kind of you," Bradley laughed. "I was denied my feast once, but it seems you've saved yourself for me, pretty one."

"Back off, Reaper," Blake warned, drawing his pins.

"Sorry. No can do," Bradley drawled. "Erasing you Players is kind of my job, see? Especially you, Miss Winter."

"Especially… me?" Celia asked, bewildered.

"Oh? Didn't you know? The Conductor's taken a special interest in you. Funny, really. You must be a rather special woman to have caught that madman's attention," Bradley teased. "Bad luck for you and your partner, I guess."

"What does the Conductor have against her?" Blake demanded angrily.

"I'm afraid I have no idea. Above my paygrade," Bradley said, with mock regret. "I can only hope she proves an exceptionally delicious morsel, as I've saved all my Noise today just for her. We'll find out in a minute, won't we?"

A pair of smaller Noise sigils appeared around the Reaper, and then a larger one appeared overhead. Two Trance Hounds burst from each of the smaller sigils, and a dolphin-shaped Noise, larger than the others of its kind Celia and Blake had seen before, leapt from the larger sigil, plunging into the lawn so that only its dorsal fin remained above ground. "Behold, the great hunter of the sea. Lovely creature, isn't he? I only wish I could offer this noble beast a pack," Bradley said regretfully.

Then the cocky Reaper vanished, as did everyone from the Realground, and Celia and Blake each found themselves alone with the Noise.

* * *

"Orcinus Canor. This vicious predatory Noise swims easily through any surface as if it were made of water. Its acrobatic leaps are as deadly as they are graceful, and it can consume other Noise, strengthening itself."

Just as Michael's voice finished describing the larger Noise, the creature leapt up into the air, showing off its sleek black-and-white patterns and its tattoo-like fins.

"A killer whale," Celia realized in horror, watching as Orcinus crashed down atop the nearest Trance Hound, devouring it whole. The smaller Noise emitted a pitiful squeak before disappearing from sight.

The larger Noise then bulged and swelled, and Celia knew she could not allow it to consume the other three Trance Hounds as well. She lifted her Lightning Rook pin, swiftly blasting the nearest hound away. She turned towards a second as her stylus jabbed down at the third.

Her second bolt of lightning struck Orcinus instead, for it had reached her second target first. Even as the third hound went up in flames, torn apart by Celia's blazing stylus, the dolphin-like Noise seemed to grow even larger. Its dorsal fin quivered and straightened, then surged forward towards Celia.

Celia fired off a third bolt while calling her stylus in front of her to create a barrier. A brick wall appeared just as the lightning shot past.

The Noise's fin tore through the wall, sending bricks flying every way. Panicking, Celia leapt aside, dropping her pin in the process. She tripped, falling to the ground with a pained yelp.

Behind her, the Noise turned agilely and straightened itself, preparing to charge again.

* * *

Battling the same Noise in the other zone, Blake didn't waste his time scanning the Noise as Celia had done. He fired off a quick salvo of magical projectiles, battering Orcinus immediately.

Then one of the four Trance Hounds disappeared, and the killer whale Noise seemed to grow larger.

"Erasing the little ones makes the large one even bigger," Blake muttered grimly, quickly jumping to an errant conclusion. He switched pins and invoked a different psych, calling forth silvery-blue shackles to pin his most dangerous opponent.

The chains held at first, but when a second Trance Hound disappeared, Blake took in a sharp breath, preparing to dive away if the deadly Noise grew large enough to break the chains.

When Orcinus remained the same size, Blake realized his initial guess was wrong. The two Trance Hounds pounced at him, and this time, he didn't hesitate to blast one away, while using a different pin to whisk himself away from the other. When he looked back, he found that all the hounds were gone.

But this time, Orcinus _did_ swell, and Blake's conjured chains shattered uselessly. "Damn it," Blake swore. He readied himself, waiting for the Noise to strike. Orcinus leapt from the water, doing an elegant flip before descending towards Blake.

Then Blake was gone, teleporting himself away as soon as the dolphin-like Noise was committed to its course. He spun around, blasting wildly with his magical lances and conjuring a massive axe to chop down at his foe. Both attacks hit their mark, and Orcinus shook momentarily.

"We can do this all day," Blake whispered, silently hoping that his partner would be able to keep up with their deadly foe, too.

* * *

With her Lightning Rook lying uselessly on the ground nearly five feet away, Celia knew she only had time for one quick drawing. Unfortunately, she found that she could only think of killer whales and lightning bolts.

Orcinus closed in, leaping up and opening its maw wide. As she found herself staring down the Noise's gullet, Celia found herself wishing she was somewhere else. Anywhere else, for that matter.

Celia's stylus turned to point directly towards her, and a bolt of lightning erupted from it. She flinched, but it didn't seem to hurt at all. Instead, she felt strangely light and airy, as if a great weight had been lifted. Instinctively, she tried leaping out of the way.

She was too late, and tried to scream as she found herself leaping straight at the Noise.

Orcinus bit down hard, his teeth going straight through its victim.

Yet Celia still didn't feel any pain, or any contact with the mighty Noise at all. After an uncomfortable blur as she passed through the monstrous creature, she found herself floating in mid-air. She looked down in shock, only to find that her body had become little more than a silhouette of herself, formed purely from crackling lightning.

Celia watched, entranced, as her body gradually reverted to normal. A few seconds later, the enchantment fell away entirely, and she landed lightly on the ground as her normal, vulnerable self.

The Noise charged again, and this time, Celia was ready. Her stylus shocked her again, and she rushed through the Noise, reaching for her fallen Lightning Rook pin as she did. She couldn't quite feel the smooth metal pin in her hand, but knew she had retrieved it nonetheless. She spun, and was gratified to see the giant Noise twitching uncontrollably with electricity coursing violently through it.

Three quick bolts of lightning hammered into the Noise. Combined with Blake's efforts in the other zone, it was more than the Noise could handle, and it crumbled into static, and then nothingness.

* * *

"There. Your Noise is gone. Now get lost," Blake spat, as soon as he and Celia were standing before Bradley once more.

Bradley looked outraged. "Alright, then. The gloves come off," he hissed.

But another Reaper had joined them.

"What do you think you're doing, Brad!?" Dennis interrupted, a panicked look on his face.

"Mind your own business, you little crybaby," Bradley sneered.

"You know the rules!" Dennis protested. "Once you use the Noise the Game Master allocates to you, you're done for the day!"

"Then it's a shame he isn't here to stop me, isn't it?" Bradley growled. He thrust both palms forward, calling forth another six Noise sigils.

"Then I'll stop you myself," Dennis declared, standing between the two Players and his fellow Reaper.

"You?" Bradley laughed. "When did you decide to grow a spine? Or are you just the Game Master's little lapdog now?"

"Does it matter?" Dennis challenged. "Attack me, then. Think the Game Master will forgive that?"

Bradley glowered at Dennis, but said nothing.

"That's what I thought, too," Dennis said coldly. "I'll make you a deal. Get out of here and learn to play by the rules, and the Game Master won't have to hear about this."

Dennis's threat must have been too great for Bradley to ignore, for in the end, the brutish Reaper shot Celia and Blake a murderous look, then stomped away.

"You two had better watch your backs," Dennis said quietly as he watched his fellow Reaper depart. "He'll keep bending the rules so long as he thinks he can get away with it."

"Looks like it," Celia agreed. "Thanks for sticking up for us, though."

"Don't mention it," Dennis said.

"Hey, Dennis," Blake said, with no trace of his earlier mistrust. "That Reaper said the Conductor's after Celia for some reason. Another Reaper said the same thing to us yesterday. Do you have any idea why?"

"The Conductor?" Dennis asked, surprised. "I didn't think he cared about how the Game went."

"Selena said the same thing, but both Bradley and Trevor seem to be after us… well, me, really," Celia said softly.

"Us," Blake corrected firmly. "We're partners, remember?"

Celia nodded, and couldn't help but feel touched by her partner's sudden display of solidarity.

"I don't see why the Conductor would care," Dennis said. "Most of the time, he just ups and disappears, off to do his own thing. One of the vets told me that the Conductor is supposed to assign the Game Master and Reapers for each game, but it's that Michael dude that's been making those decisions, lately. That's doubly weird, since Michael doesn't even have a title. No one knows why he's in charge, he just is, sort of."

"Michael doesn't have a title?" Celia asked, surprised.

"Not one that I've heard," Dennis said with a shrug.

"Hmm… have you ever heard of the Producer, Dennis?" Celia asked curiously.

Dennis gave her an odd look. "Nope. None of the vets mentioned any Producer, either," he said, wearing a look of honest confusion.

"Never mind then," Celia said. "Well, whatever he is, at least Michael seems determined to keep the Game fair. Hey, Dennis, what do you know about the Game Master? When you mentioned the Game Master, Bradley seemed kind of worried. Scared, even."

"Honestly, not much," Dennis admitted. "He's always been the quiet type, hanging out in the background. Most of us barely noticed him until Michael showed up just before the week started to give us our roles. The Game Master seems reasonable enough, but no one really wants to cross him. He was powerful enough to be given the job, after all."

"Reasonable?" Blake scoffed. "You think our mission for today is reasonable?"

At his words, Celia suddenly remembered their predicament. "Blake, the mission!" she exclaimed, instinctively looking at her palm. To her surprise, her timer was already gone.

"See what I mean?" Dennis grinned. "There's still quite a bit of Noise hanging around, but you Players did some real work out here today. Told you that would be enough for the Big Man."

"Well, I'm glad some of you Reapers play fair, at least," Blake said.

"Most of us try to," Dennis said with a shrug. "And Brad… well, he seems a bit overzealous, but if he's really getting different orders from the Conductor, it may not really be his fault. A lot of us are pretty new to being Reapers, and we're still just feeling our way along."

"How did you all become Reapers, anyways?" Celia asked curiously, for it had only occurred to her then that the Reapers seemed more or less like regular people.

Dennis shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry. I'm not supposed to say."

"Why not?" Blake asked warily.

"Michael strictly forbade us from talking about it," Dennis said. "The order came from the Composer, supposedly. He's the one really in charge of the Underground. The Conductor's supposed to report to him, and I think Michael does, too. I know even less about him than our Game Master, though. I've only seen him twice, and never his face, assuming he even has one. I haven't heard him speak before, either."

"It must be pretty confusing," Celia said sympathetically.

"Oh, it is. I'm not complaining, though," Dennis said. Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed. "Ah. Looks like the Game Master's about to put you all to sleep. I'd best be off, then. Good night. I'll see you two later, hopefully."

"Alright. Thanks again, Dennis," Celia said.

* * *

A few miles away from the KeyArena, Michael stood motionless atop of one of the stores overlooking Pike Place Market. Invisible to the living world, he kept his eyes fixed on the streets below. He waited there patiently, as if expecting someone.

He wasn't surprised in the slightest when he heard soft footsteps behind him. "Good afternoon, Game Master," he greeted.

"You asked to see me, Ariel?" the Game Master asked.

Michael turned to face his guest, a fairly tall, solidly-built man clad in a long black leather trench coat. "You've changed your look," Michael remarked.

"I've reverted to my old look," the Game Master corrected. "It does feel a bit refreshing, in a way. It's been quite some time since I was last made Game Master… but I digress. What do you need?"

In answer, Michael stepped aside and turned back to the street. "Look," he instructed.

The Game Master frowned. "At what? Minamimoto's 'art'? I thought you had decided to wait until after he leaves to scrub them from the Underground."

"I did, but I believe now that I've made a grievous error," Michael admitted. "Take a closer look."

The Game Master took a step forward and eyed the junk heap carefully. His eyes widened as he saw what Michael was referring to. "What the hell?"

"I've noticed that your diction grows cruder upon being confronted by your former partner's antics," Michael said, amused.

"If you think I'm bad now, you should have seen when I was with…" the Game Master began wryly, before cutting himself off halfway through. "Never mind. My question still stands."

"Well, that's a…" Michael began.

"I know what it is," the Game Master sighed. "I've seen a Taboo Noise refinery sigil before. I've heard the rumors about Minamimoto, too. My question is, what the hell does he think he's playing at?"

"Frankly, following that man's train of thought is far beyond even my abilities," Michael admitted. "His motives matter little to us now, anyways. Over the past few weeks, he has constructed dozens of his sculptures throughout the city. Each sculpture has now been ingrained with a similar sigil, and the Taboo Noise have already begun to surface. If we do not act swiftly, the Underground will be overrun by this time tomorrow."

"Then we'll act swiftly," the Game Master said simply.

"You will confront him? He's almost certainly beyond you right now, you realize," Michael warned.

"I didn't say I'd confront him alone," the Game Master pointed out dryly.

Michael shook his head. "If you and I go to face him together, who will maintain the Game? Who will deal with the sigils and the Noise?" he reminded.

"Then what do you suggested?" the Game Master asked.

"Allow me to handle the Conductor," Michael requested grimly. "I'll put an end to his nonsense while you keep the Underground in order."

"Are you sure you can handle him alone? He might be insane, but he's more powerful than just about any other Reaper I've ever known," the Game Master warned.

"Please," Michael laughed dismissively. "I can handle one renegade Reaper. I'm more worried about you. What do you intend to do?"

"The only thing I can do," the Game Master replied. "This calls for a change in tomorrow's mission. The Reapers and I will do what we can about the sigils. After that, I'll send the Players after the Noise."

Michael looked at the Game Master in surprise. There was even a slight trace of fear in his eyes. "You will order the Players into battle against Taboo Noise?" Michael asked, shocked.

"What choice do I have? The Reapers don't have the manpower to handle the Taboo Noise alone," the Game Master said.

"The Players will not escape their battle with the Taboo Noise unscathed," Michael warned. "Some may be erased."

"Possibly all of them," the Game Master added grimly. "But if we cannot erase the Taboo Noise, we cannot save the Players anyways. I'm no happier about this than you are, Ariel. We need these Players to make it through; I still mean to face them myself on the seventh day. That will never happen if we let the Taboo Noise run free."

"I suppose we'll have to trust our Players to weather the storm before them, then," Michael said. "You'll be glad to know that some of your players have proven extraordinarily resilient," he added thoughtfully.

"Oh? Which of them?" the Game Master asked in a tone of mild curiosity.

"A young woman named Celia Winter, to name one," Michael said slyly. "If tomorrow goes as well as you hope, you'll have quite the battle waiting for you on the final day."

For a long time, the Game Master said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed unnaturally calm, and his words seemed forced. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Good luck, Game Master," Michael said.

"Good luck to you too, Ariel. I may be wrong, but I think you'll need it more than I will."

* * *

 _I don't care 'bout imaginary boundaries,_

 _But somehow, I'm afraid to go over them,_

 _Cover up all my scars and memories,_

 _Creativity is all that I've got…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Three Minutes Clapping.**


	7. Day Five: Light's Elegy

**~ Day Five ~**

 **Light's Elegy**

* * *

 _If it breaks, fear not, believe me,_

 _It will be whole again, our story,_

 _Can't see? Afraid? Don't worry,_

 _This is the way my life goes,_

 _I dream for you to see me smile, someday,_

 _Standing beneath the lightless cloudy sky,_

 _Sometimes I cannot find the words to say,_

 _Today, my journey can no longer fly…_

* * *

 _Though the sun had begun to set already, leaving the streets below barely visible, Celia couldn't quite pull herself from the couch nearest to the window. In fact, she had hardly left that spot since returning home hours ago. Her work lay sprawled out on the coffee table before her, but she hadn't made any progress there, either. She hadn't been deliberately neglecting her work; she was just finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate._

 _In an effort to distract herself, she glanced down at her phone, which was still displaying a log of her most recent messages. As soon as she had returned home, she had texted Faith, accepting his invitation. And though she was sure that her friend wouldn't be so cruel as to lead her on, his reply had brought her immeasurable relief._

 _Faith's next message didn't reach her until half past eight. Ever since then, Celia had been unable to restrain herself from peeking out the window at least once a minute._

 _Upon reflection, Celia was quite glad that Karen was working late that night. She knew that her best friend was probably getting as little work done as she herself was; according to Karen, her boss had an annoying habit of keeping his employees around whenever he was busy, regardless of whether they had any work to do. Celia knew that Karen was probably quite annoyed with it all, but at that moment, Celia was just glad to have avoided the otherwise inevitable teasing._

 _Then her apartment's buzzer rang, and Celia nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste to reach the door. Mere moments later, she found herself standing just inside her apartment complex's doorway, and paused only to straighten her clothing before stepping outside._

 _"Hey, C. I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?" Faith asked apologetically._

 _Celia shook her head quickly. "It's okay," she assured him hastily._

 _"I parked just down the block. This way," Faith said, turning, but waiting for her so that they could walk side by side. "You must be starving. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to be so late; I got all my paperwork finished in time, but talking it over with my partner took longer than I expected."_

 _"I'm fine. Really," Celia insisted. "Did you get everything worked out?"_

 _"I'd like to think so," Faith said, laughing lightly. "I'll know for sure soon enough. I like your dress, by the way."_

 _"I wasn't sure where we were going, so I thought I'd wear something nice, just in case," Celia said._

 _"Well, you look lovely," Faith complimented._

 _"Thanks," Celia said, trying and failing to hide her blush._

 _Suddenly, Faith turned and stepped into the street. "This one," he said, stepping up to the passenger door of an unassuming chrome sedan and politely opening it for Celia._

 _Celia stepped into a car. Once inside, she noticed that despite being clean and in nearly perfect condition, Faith's car seemed a bit old; instead of an audio jack, or at least a CD player, it had an old-fashioned cassette deck._

 _"It is a bit old, isn't it," Faith remarked, noting her expression as he sat down beside her and strapped himself in. "I'm not much of a car guy, to be honest. This one seemed cheap and reliable, and gets me from point A to point B smoothly enough. That's all I was asking for, really."_

 _Celia thought about it, and decided that a flashy and flamboyant car would have seemed out of character for her friend, anyways. "It's nice. I think it suits you," she said. "Where are we going, by the way?"_

 _"We've got a few choices. You mentioned sushi earlier, so I got us a reservation at this place down in Seattle. I've never been there before, but the chef there was once an apprentice to a famous Japanese sushi chef. But if you don't feel like sushi, there's this steakhouse near my office that my co-workers are always raving about," Faith offered. "Or if you have something else in mind, that's fine by me."_

 _"They both sound great," Celia said._

 _"Sushi it is, then. Saves me cancelling our reservation," Faith said with a wink._

* * *

 _As Celia and Faith stepped into the restaurant, the aged chef at the sushi bar looked up at them and smiled. "Irrashaimase," the kindly old man greeted politely._

 _Faith smiled and nodded, then approached the host standing near the entrance. Before long, a waiter appeared to lead him and Celia to their seats._

 _Celia began poring over the menu curiously. The restaurant's selection was much wider than she was used to. She quickly found most of the sushi restaurant staples, but there were several items she couldn't quite remember seeing before. When the waiter returned a short while later, she was far from ready to order._

 _Then, to her surprise, Faith began conversing with their waiter in Japanese. The waiter seemed just as surprised at first, but before long, both men were laughing. Then the waiter turned to Celia expectantly. "Miss, are you ready to order?" he asked._

 _"Uh… not yet," Celia admitted. She glanced at her companion. "What about you, Faith?" she asked._

 _"Oh, I usually just trust the chef to decide," Faith replied. "Makes ordering easy."_

 _"You can do that?" Celia asked, looking down at her menu._

 _"Sure. Here," Faith said, indicating one of the options on the menu. "Omakase roughly translates to 'I'll leave it to the chef,'" he explained._

 _"I might do that too," Celia said thoughtfully. "Yeah, let me have that too, please," she said, turning to the waiter._

 _"Good choice," the waiter nodded approvingly. "Would you like anything to drink with that?"_

 _"Umm… no, I'll just have water. Thank you," Celia said. After the waiter collected their menus and left, Celia turned to Faith. "I didn't know you spoke Japanese, Faith. What were you two saying?"_

 _"I was just making small talk, really," Faith said. "I placed my order. He commented that my Japanese sounded fluent for an American. I told him that I spent a few years living in Japan, and he joked that perhaps I should have lived there a few years longer."_

 _"So, not that fluent, huh?" Celia smiled._

 _"Sadly," Faith chuckled._

 _"But… you used to live in Japan? You aren't Japanese, are you?" Celia asked._

 _The waiter returned then, bearing two glasses of water. "Doumo," Faith said, briefly acknowledging their waiter before turning back to Celia. "No, I'm not Japanese. I figured you'd pick up on that. It always surprises me how hard of a time people have telling us Asians apart, but you have a good eye for detail."_

 _"Well, it's a bit easier for me. I'm half-Japanese myself, and the town where I grew up had a fairly large Asian population," Celia said modestly._

 _"Ah. I'm Chinese. Well, Chinese-American, really," Faith said. "I vacationed in Japan during my first year of college. Someone there ended up making me a job offer I couldn't refuse, so I ended up staying."_

 _Celia laughed. "You make it sound like you got railroaded into working for the Yakuza or something," she commented._

 _"If I did, wouldn't I still be working for them?" Faith asked, laughing as well. "You don't just walk away from organizations like that, from what I've heard."_

 _"Oh? So you're still working for them now?" Celia teased. "Is that why you're always wearing a suit, then? So that no one can see the tattoos on your arm?"_

 _"Yes, exactly," Faith grinned. "I guess you found me out. I'm a Chinese man working out of the United States for a world-famous Japanese crime organization." Then, in an unnecessary attempt to prove he was only joking, he carefully rolled back his sleeves, revealing his unadorned arms. "I don't actually know which arm the Yakuza tattoos usually go on," he admitted._

 _"I guess that means you don't have a bunch of exciting stories from work to share," Celia said jokingly. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about you killing me afterwards to keep me quiet."_

 _"My work gets exciting enough without needing to kill anyone," Faith replied._

 _Only then did it occur to Celia that she had never asked Faith about his job. "Speaking of which, you run your own company, right? What do you guys do?" she asked._

 _"Hmm… it's a bit hard to describe," Faith said thoughtfully. "Our business is all about helping people who've fallen upon hard times. Sometimes it's just bad luck that they ended up where they are. Other times, it's their own doing. I've worked with alcoholics, people with drug habits, and compulsive gamblers, for example. Either way, we reach out to them and help the ones who can show us that they want our help and will make the most of it."_

 _"So your business does rehab counseling," Celia translated._

 _"Among other things," Faith nodded. "We're always trying out new ideas, though. I'm sure anyone looking at our paper trail would be utterly baffled. One day we're getting regular office supplies. The next, the FedEx guy shows up with a pile of imported skateboards."_

 _"Skateboards? For what?" Celia asked._

 _"I didn't ask, so your guess would be as good as mine," Faith shrugged. "I just passed them along to my partner. The way I see it is, if it gets the job done, it's good enough for me."_

 _"That sound very… hands-offish," Celia remarked._

 _"That's the idea, anyways," Faith agreed. "The less time I need to spend verifying other people's work, the more time I have to take care of my own projects. My partner and I work pretty well together. Not perfectly, but well enough, I think. There're a few moments of doubt every now and then – from both sides, naturally – but someday, we'll be on the same page."_

 _"You really think two people can agree on absolutely everything?" Celia asked._

 _"Not at all," Faith said, smiling. "It's not about never disagreeing, it's about believing in your partner even when you disagree. Trust your partner, as an old friend of mine would say."_

 _"Trust your partner…" Celia echoed wistfully. "When you put it that way, it sounds pretty nice. It's a shame most of my work has to be done on my own."_

 _"You never know," Faith said thoughtfully. "The seamstress you're designing that dress pattern for has a partner, doesn't she? Even if art really is just an expression of self, I'm sure you can find someone likeminded to help, or at least bounce ideas off of."_

 _"I guess you're right," Celia agreed, her expression brightening. "I do have someone to share my work with these days, after all. That counts, right?"_

 _At first, Faith seemed to have been caught off guard by her sudden enthusiasm. Then he understood, and smiled warmly. "If you say so," he said serenely._

* * *

"Hey, Celia. Are you up, yet? You need to see this."

Celia stirred at the sound of her partner's voice. "What is it, Blake?" she murmured sleepily. "Is the mission here already?"

"Yeah, but that's not… just come take a look at this," Blake said.

Feeling rather embarrassed for missing their mission's arrival, Celia missed the second half of Blake's request entirely. She reached for her phone, and saw her mission staring back at her.

* * *

 _Free Capitol Hill of the Noise that should not be. No time limit. Beware the Lion._

 _\- The Reapers_

* * *

"Of the Noise that should not be?" Celia murmured. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Over here, Celia. Quickly," Blake urged impatiently.

Celia glanced down at her palm, confirming that there was no timer. Then she moved to Blake's side, unsure as to why he was in such a hurry. "What is it?" she asked.

"Look," Blake said, pointing towards a nearby newspaper vending machine.

"The Seattle Times?" Celia frowned. "What about…" Her sentence ended in a soft gasp as she saw the picture on the newspaper's front page. "Blake! That's…"

"Michael. I know," Blake said grimly. "Here."

Blake handed a copy of the newspaper to Celia, who began reading it aloud. "31-year-old Michael Ariel, a successful local businessman specializing in international exports, was shot and killed this morning in Capitol Hill in what Seattle police believe to be a drug-related crime. Witnesses claim that Ariel was sprinting down 12th Avenue, desperately fleeing from an armed pursuer. Ariel was shot twice, first in the leg, and then again, fatally, in the head. The shooter fled afterwards, escaping before the police and medics arrived on the scene, where Ariel was pronounced dead. Two witnesses were able to provide the police with pictures of the shooter, who currently remains unidentified."

"They included the pictures. You should take a look," Blake interrupted grimly.

Celia looked further down the page, and she locked eyes with a picture of a slender Japanese man with tanned skin and an eerily maniacal expression. She let out another gasp. "The Conductor?" she exclaimed.

"This isn't good," Blake said. "Reaper or not, Michael was one of the ones helping us. Now he's dead, and the guy who killed him is the same guy that supposedly wants you erased. This can't be a coincidence."

"No, it can't be," Celia agreed. "If this article is right, Michael was killed in Capitol Hill. That's where our mission is, too."

Blake looked down at his phone again, only just now noticing that the locations were the same. He shook his head in disbelief. "Okay. That cinches it. We'd better get going."

"Going where?" Celia asked, not following at first.

"To Capitol Hill," Blake said. "Dealing with the Reapers is one thing; I think we can take Bradley or Trevor if we have to. I'm not sure we can take both of them at once, though, and they're not even our biggest problem. The Conductor took down Michael somehow. If he's coming after us personally, we're in big trouble. We have to get to Capitol Hill and join up with the other Players."

"You _want_ to team up with the other Players?" Celia asked, genuinely surprised.

"Not just the other Players, but the other Reapers, too, and anyone else who'd help us," Blake amended. "We're outmatched here. We need all the help we can get."

"What about the mission?" Celia asked. "The mission said something about Noise that should not be."

"No 'fail and face erasure', either," Blake noted. "Just a warning about a lion. It's a bit odd, but Dennis was right yesterday. The Game Master has been fair so far, both when he faced us personally on the second day and with all his missions. I like our chances against this lion of his and the Noise more than I like our chances against someone strong enough to kill off Michael."

"Good point. Okay, let's get going," Celia agreed.

"You'll have to lead the way. I have no idea where Capitol Hill is," Blake admitted.

Celia nodded, and took a good look around her to get her bearings. "This way," she determined, heading eastward.

* * *

"How much further is this hill?" Blake asked nervously, constantly looking all around for any sign of danger. He and Celia had yet to encounter anyone who could see them, or even any Noise, and it was beginning to make him nervous.

"We're here," Celia replied. "Capitol Hill isn't actually a hill. It's mostly a residential district, known for having a lot of clubs and bars and stuff. They have a bunch of bookstores, too."

"So if this is Capitol Hill… where is everyone?" Blake asked. "I don't even see any…"

"Blake, look over there," Celia said, pointing towards a nearby night club. "Isn't that Selena and Dennis? Come on, let's go say hi."

As Celia and Blake approached the two Reapers, they saw that there was a heated discussion going on. Rather, Selena had certainly worked herself up, while Dennis was shying away, as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Oh come on. We don't have time for this right now," Selena said impatiently.

"We don't?" Dennis asked nervously. "Can't we wait for some backup?"

"What kind of backup are you waiting for?" Celia asked curiously.

Dennis turned. "Celia! Perfect!" he said, relieved.

"Oh no you don't," Selena said dangerously. "You are not pushing this off onto them."

"Why not? It's their mission, too," Dennis protested.

"Our mission? You mean the Noise?" Blake asked. "Wait, you Reapers are working with us on this mission?"

Selena nodded. "Game Master's orders. First we were to help him take down those ridiculous junk heaps the Conductor left all over the place. Now we're supposed to team up with you Players and get rid of the Noise," she explained.

"The Conductor was the one creating all those junk heaps?" Celia asked, startled.

"Yep. Don't bother asking why. No one knows what's going on in that maniac's head. Well, the Game Master might, but if so, he's not sharing," Dennis said glumly. "The ones in the Realground were cleared away long ago, of course, but we couldn't be bothered tidying up after the Grim Heaper here in the Underground. Then, last night, he turned them all into these strange Noise sigils."

"Strange? How?" Blake asked.

"The Game Master calls them Taboo Noise refinery sigils," Selena said. "The Noise they spawn take completely different shapes from the Noise we get around here. They're tougher and more aggressive, too. They attack anyone they see, Player or Reaper alike, and it's almost impossible to hurt them without coordinating attacks against them across two different zones."

"Two different zones?" Celia echoed, guessing that the Reaper must have been referring to how she and Blake were always separated as soon as they encountered Noise.

"Yep. That's why we Reapers have partnered up for today, too," she said. She scowled at Dennis. "Of course, now I'm stuck with this slacker."

"Hey!" Dennis protested. "I'm not slacking! I just think maybe we should leave these to Celia and her partner and start somewhere else instead."

"Why don't I just buy you a night light? Or would you prefer a spine?" Selena asked, rolling her eyes.

"A night light?" Celia asked curiously. She looked into the club, which seemed closed for business. The door was open, though, revealing the building's pitch-black interior.

"Yeah. Seriously. Who's ever heard of a grown man afraid of the dark?" Selena grumbled.

Dennis shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Oh! Dennis, do you have nyctophobia?" Celia asked.

"Um… yeah," Dennis admitted abashedly. "How did you… I mean, people don't usually know what it's called," he said.

"My friend mentioned a co-worker who's the same way," Celia explained sympathetically. "Well, Blake and I still owe you one for yesterday. Right, Blake?" she asked, nudging her partner lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah, sure," Blake agreed, though he seemed amused by Dennis's plight.

"Selena, Dennis. You two go on ahead. We'll clear out the Noise in here," Celia promised.

Selena groaned. "I can't believe you two really want to indulge his stupidity. Whatever. Take care in there, you hear? We saw at least two Noise wander inside." With that, she marched away, making no effort to hide her annoyance.

"Thanks, Celia," Dennis murmured.

"Don't sweat it," Celia said reassuringly. "I've heard how bad it can get. Faith's co-worker supposedly passed out because of it once. You can't risk fighting Noise like that."

"Faith? Is she that friend you mentioned earlier?" Dennis asked curiously.

" _He_ , actually," Celia corrected. "And yeah, he is."

"I see," Dennis said, wearing a thoughtful expression. "Well, thanks again. Be careful, alright? These Taboo Noise don't mess around."

Celia nodded, then she and Blake stepped through the club's open doorway.

* * *

"Where's the damned light switch?" Blake complained, not long after they were inside and lost in the darkness.

"No idea," Celia said. "You know, for all the flak Selena gave Dennis about it, this is actually kind of scary. Wandering in the darkness after some particularly deadly type of Noise?" She shuddered, though of course, her partner could not see her.

"Then quit talking about it and help me get the lights on," Blake ordered. "Or… never mind, I think I got it."

The lights flickered on a second later, and Celia and Blake's eyes were immediately drawn to a pair of black frog-like Noise in the middle of the room. The two looked identical, with the same glowing, beady red eyes and hind legs that appeared to be drawn from white tattoos.

" _That's_ the Noise the Reapers are freaking out about!?" Blake exclaimed. "They're only frogs!"

"Don't let your guard down," Celia warned, focusing on her Player pin. For a brief moment, she wondered if it would even work with Michael gone.

But Michael's soothing voice played out exactly as she had hoped. "Choirfrog. The Taboo frog. Its foamy spray hides a single, differently-colored lethal bubble."

"Foamy spray?" Celia wondered aloud. "What do you think that means, Blake?" She turned, only to find that her partner was nowhere to be seen. "Oh, right."

Celia turned back to face the Noise, just in time to see one of them pouncing towards her. She tried to move aside, but was a moment too slow. The Noise slammed heavily into her side. She staggered backward, trying her best to stay on her feet.

Out of the corner of her eye, Celia spotted the second Noise moving. For the time being, though, she was more concerned with the Noise directly in front of her. Her stylus darted forward, quickly summoning a meteor which blasted straight into the closer frog.

The frog croaked loudly, looking unbothered by the attack. Then it pounced again, taking Celia by surprise once more and sending her sprawling across the floor. The second Noise joined the fray a moment later, landing atop of Celia and pressing down on her painfully.

Desperately, Celia willed her stylus to move towards her, drawing her form into lightning as she had done against the killer whale Noise the day before. Suddenly free, she rushed forward through both of the frogs, putting as much distance between her and them as she could before her transformation reverted. She pivoted quickly, drawing Lightning Rook and firing off a quick bolt. To her horror, she saw that neither of her attacks had fazed the Noise. Both Noise pounced again, but this time, she was just able to dodge away in time.

Celia began to run, her stylus trailing her easily. Needing just a bit more time, she imagined a wall of ice behind her, and her stylus went to work. The frozen sheet shattered as the two Noise slammed into it, but it had served its purpose, buying Celia several precious seconds. A loaded handgun fell into her waiting hands, and she promptly pointed at the nearer of the two Noise, pulling the trigger.

The recoil was far greater than Celia had expected, and her pistol nearly fell from her grasp. Her shot was several inches off the mark, too, barely clipping her target's webbed foot. It didn't seem to matter. Like her meteor and lightning, the bullet had no visible effect on the Noise.

"How do I hurt these things?" Celia cried out in frustration.

Both of the Noise frogs opened their mouths, as if to answer. But instead of words, streams of bubbles gurgled forth, drifting outwards slowly and clouding the air. Amidst them were two violet bubbles, glowing hauntingly. "Lethal," Celia whispered, remembering her Player pin's warning.

Her stylus darted forward several feet, leaving a thin, silvery trail. A needle formed and began shooting back and forth the cloud, popping the bubbles left and right as Celia readied another meteor. She fired again, and like the first time, she seemed entirely incapable of injuring the two Taboo Noise.

Finally giving up on attacking the Noise directly, Celia thought back to her battle against the ice Noise during the third mission. Her stylus dipped to the ground, sketching a jagged line beneath the Noise and opening a deadly crevasse. One of the frogs plummeted downward and disappeared, and though the other managed to leap aside, a second crevasse opened perpendicular to the first, sending the second frog to its doom as well.

* * *

Blake reappeared by Celia's side in a crouching stance. When he saw her, he relaxed, lying down backward. "God damn it, those things were tough," he groaned. "I wasn't even sure if I was hurting them."

"You might not have been. I don't think I was able to, anyways," Celia admitted.

"Wait, then what happened to them?" Blake asked.

"I drew a hole beneath them and dropped them… somewhere else," Celia said, suddenly realizing that she wasn't sure where she had sent the Noise. "It's the same thing I did against that ice Noise two days ago."

"I hope it's somewhere far enough to count as us getting rid of them," Blake said, climbing back to his feet. "How the fuck are we supposed to hurt those things?"

"I don't know. We were lucky they couldn't fly," Celia said worriedly. "I think Selena said something about coordinating our attacks, but I'm not exactly sure what she meant. I can't see you after the battle starts; how can we possibly coordinate our attacks that way?"

"Why don't we catch up to her and ask her?" Blake suggested.

"Sure. Let's try that," Celia agreed. With one last glance back to make sure all the Noise inside the building were gone, she switched off the lights and exited alongside Blake.

* * *

Once outside, Celia started after Selena and Dennis, heading towards the heart of Capitol Hill. Truthfully, she wasn't sure where the other two Reapers had gone after disappearing from sight, but she didn't really have any other course to follow.

Instead of the Reapers, Celia and Blake soon came across a pair of Players battling more monochrome Noise: Graham and Jason. The Noise they battled hovered several feet off the ground and were serpentine in shape, but were wingless and furry. Each was armed with a pair of razor sharp claws.

"Death Metal Mink. The Taboo mink. Like an obsidian gale, it demolishes everything in its path," Michael's voice explained.

"That's supposed to be a mink?" Celia asked uncertainly. Upon closer inspection, she could see a certain resemblance, but it still seemed a bit of a stretch.

"A mink?" Blake echoed. Reluctantly, he activated his own Player pin. "Um… okay, then."

Celia watched the ongoing battle with a mixture of trepidation and interest. Graham and Jason seemed to be having trouble injuring the Noise, too. At the same time, they seemed to be faring better than Celia and Blake had; a few of their attacks left their Noise targets visibly shaken.

"They seem to be able to hurt the Noise, at least," Blake murmured, noticing the same thing.

"Yeah, but… there's no coordination, as far as I can see," Celia noted. "They're both just attacking at random. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen them both hurt one of the Noise at the same time."

The battle came to an end soon after, leaving both Graham and Jason looking thoroughly exhausted. "Hello, Celia," Graham called, when he saw her and Blake standing nearby.

"Hey," Celia said. "How're you doing?"

"We've been better," Graham said in a somber tone. "This mission seemed pretty simple at first, but Jason and I are barely hurting these Taboo Noise."

"You two should probably keep your distance from them," Jason told Celia and Blake, panting. "I doubt you'd be able to do anything to them."

Blake stiffened. "Why, you arrogant little…" he began angrily.

"You're right," Celia said, stepping in quickly. "Blake and I tried fighting some of these Noise earlier. Our attacks just weren't strong enough to hurt them."

"It's not about how strong you are," Jason corrected. "Well, it's not _just_ about how strong you are, anyways."

"What do you know about these Taboo Noise?" Celia asked.

"Just what that Reaper, Trevor, told us this morning," Graham said glumly.

"Trevor?" Blake asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "He's helping us now, too?"

"Yeah. Game Master's orders, he said. All the Reapers, even the Game Master himself, are supposed to be out here helping us clear out the Taboo Noise. Well, all the Reapers except for the Conductor. Did you hear about what happened to Michael?" Graham asked.

"Then it's true? Michael's dead?" Celia asked unhappily.

"Yeah. Or maybe erased. We're not too sure what happens to Reapers that get dusted," Jason admitted.

"So what did Trevor tell you about these Noise?" Celia asked.

"The Taboo Noise have some sort of innate protection against psychs," Graham explained. "It completely nullifies most psychs, which makes them nearly invulnerable."

"But you and Jason were able to hurt them just now," Celia said.

"Sometimes, yes," Graham said. "You can't remove their protection, but you _can_ potentially circumvent it. When Players battle Noise, they're separated from their partners and sent into what the Reapers call 'zones.' That's because the Noise exist simultaneously in two zones at once."

"One of the Reapers told us to coordinate our attacks across multiple zones," Celia said.

"Yes, exactly," Graham nodded. "Even when you and your partner have been sent to different zones, you're still together and your pact still connects you. Against normal Noise, that's enough to let you manifest your psychs and attack them in either zone. Taboo Noise are different, though. To hurt them in one zone, you have to use your pact to borrow some of your partner's strength from the other zone."

"How?" Blake asked.

"It happens automatically," Jason explained. "It's hard to put into words, but you should be able to sense your partner's presence whenever she's with you. Once in a while, you may feel her power flowing through you, too. When that happens, your psychs grow stronger, and you'll be able to overcome the Taboo Noise."

"I don't think I've ever noticed that," Celia admitted.

"Me neither," Blake said.

"I figured as much," Jason said knowingly. "See, there's another part to it. You and your partner have to be in sync. A stronger pact allows your power to flow more easily between the two of you. Partners who truly trust one another can find their rhythm more easily, and their power peaks more frequently. I've watched you two fight before, though. As far as I could tell, you were both just doing your own thing. You can't battle the Taboo Noise that way."

"But Blake and I _have_ been trying to work together… haven't we?" Celia said, looking towards her partner uncertainly.

"I don't think it's something you can control," Graham said comfortingly. "It's all instinctive, so it's not like either of you are consciously mistrusting the other. You need to truly understand and empathize with how your partner feels. Jason and I have been friends for years, and our pact still feels shaky from time to time. You and Blake, on the other hand, only just started trusting one another."

"So just stay clear of the Taboo Noise, alright?" Jason said. "You two can't really fight them, so there's no reason to put yourselves in danger. Stick with Graham and I, and let us handle any Taboo Noise we come across."

"Alright. Thank you," Celia agreed, trying not to feel too discouraged.

* * *

High up on the balcony of a nearby apartment building, two Reapers watched interestedly as a large mob of Taboo Noise slowly crept along the street below.

"See? I told you there'd be more Noise here," Dennis crowed triumphantly. "Let's get them."

Selena shook her head immediately. "No. Stay where you are," she ordered firmly.

Dennis shot her an odd look. "Is something wrong? You seemed eager for a fight earlier. Don't tell me the Noise have spooked you out, too," he said.

"We spent a solid four minutes erasing one stupid crab," Selena reminded him. "I am a little bit hesitant to attack thirty more Taboo Noise at once, yes. But that's beside the point. Look." She pointed towards the center of the teeming throng.

Dennis obediently peered into the approaching swarm, squinting. Then his eyes shot wide open as he saw what Selena was referring to. "Shit! That's the Conductor!"

"Maybe," Selena said, sounding unconvinced. "But something's different about him."

"We've got to call this in," Dennis said urgently, growing panicked.

"This isn't right, though. The Conductor returned to the Hall of Adjudication this morning," Selena murmured. "Dolphus was supposed to keep an eye on him. If the Conductor's here… has Dolphus been erased, then? Or has he turned against us, too?"

"Come on, Selena! Let's not worry about that right now," Dennis insisted. "We need to tell the Game Master. Then we need to get the hell out of here."

"Alright," Selena agreed reluctantly, reaching for her phone.

The Game Master answered almost immediately. "Anderson? What is it?"

"We've spotted the Conductor, sir," Selena reported succinctly.

"You've found Minamimoto? Where?" the Game Master asked tensely.

"He's on 12th Avenue, just south of the reservoir," Selena reported. "But I don't understand, sir. Dolphus's last communication indicated that the Conductor remains in the Hall of Adjudication. Has something happened to Dolphus?" She couldn't help but sound hopeful as she asked of their comrade's fate.

"Dolphus is fine. He and the Conductor remain in the Hall still," the Game Master assured her.

"The Conductor, too?" Selena asked, confused. "But he's right here, sir."

"Never mind that for now," the Game Master ordered. "Just stick with Williams. Keep an eye on Minamimoto if you can, but do not engage. Do you understand?"

"Understood, sir," Selena confirmed.

* * *

Celia, Blake, Graham, and Jason soon arrived at the verdant lawns of Volunteer Park, where they found a massive brawl awaiting them. Ten Players were already battling the Taboo Noise in the north. Laura and Vivian were among them, and seemed to be faring better than most of the others.

"Interesting. Laura and Vivian fight well together," Graham observed, sounding impressed.

"That's what you consider fighting well?" Blake asked skeptically. "Out of every five attacks they make, four are failing entirely."

"That's just the nature of Taboo Noise," Graham grimaced. "I think I was hurting them maybe once out of every ten attacks, if even."

"Yeah. I wonder how those two bonded so quickly," Jason agreed.

"There's more Players fighting in the south," Celia interrupted, pointing towards where another six Players were fighting an even larger group of Noise. She recognized Tom and Paul among the second group of Players. Three Reapers were there, too – Rex Cantus and the two Japanese Reapers in hoodies. The Reapers seemed to be battling the Taboo Noise, too, with several ordinary Noise fighting beside them.

"I think we should try to end the battle in the north, first," Graham said. "Then we can all go help the others together."

"Got it," Jason agreed.

"Celia, you and Blake stay here, alright?" Graham instructed.

"Sure," Celia agreed.

"Keep her safe, Blake," Jason added.

"I will," Blake promised.

With that, Graham and Jason set off. They approached the northern battle, and some of the Noise broke away from the other Players to face them. At the same time, more Noise arrived. Some joined the fray immediately, while others prowled around the perimeter menacingly.

Celia and Blake watched the battle silently for several minutes. Then Celia turned and began surveying the southern battle, too, while Blake remained focused on Graham and Jason.

"I don't think they'll last," Blake said, sounding uncharacteristically concerned. "Two of the Players just went down, and the others are tiring. Laura looks like she's about to keel over."

"More Noise just showed up down there, too," Celia added, pointing towards the southern edge of the park. "I think Tom and Paul are trying to run."

Blake turned, and the two of them watched intently as the two Players tried to escape their swarming enemies. Even as they managed to loop around the Noise standing in their path, more Noise rushed to greet them.

Then the Taboo Noise surrounding Tom and Paul backed off inexplicably. The two Players seemed too relieved to question the sudden reprieve.

"Did the Noise just… stop?" Blake asked, stunned. "Why?"

Then a solitary humanoid figure, dressed in black and wearing a matching baseball cap over a red bandana, stepped through the swarm of Noise.

Celia gasped. "Blake, it's him! The Conductor!"

"I see him," Blake said grimly. "That's it. Time for us to leave."

Celia shook her head urgently. "We can't leave the other Players to be erased," she said.

"We don't have a choice. Even the Reapers are leaving, and the Conductor's not after them personally," Blake said, indicating the two Japanese Reapers as they soared away from the battle, carried through the sky by their spiky black wings. Rex Cantus had backed away from the Conductor cautiously, summoning a pair of Classical Rooks to cover his retreat.

Celia watched them go, then turned back to Paul. The older man wore a fearful expression as he backed away from the Reaper.

"Die, radian!" the Conductor suddenly cried out. He thrust one tattooed arm forward, and small spinning blades spun outward, glowing red. Paul reacted by conjuring a barrier of some sort, but the crimson discs sawed straight through the barrier, shattering it. One after another, the blades ripped into Paul, shredding him apart.

A moment later, Tom stopped struggling, and a look of despair came over him. With his partner gone, his fate was sealed, and he stood there motionlessly, accepting of that simple truth.

But the Conductor wasn't finished. "Infinity!" he shouted, throwing out another wave of lethal projectiles. Tom stiffened, then crumpled to the ground before fading away.

The victorious Reaper's grin grew even wider, and he began searching for his next victim, his gaze settling upon Celia and Blake.

"Time for us to leave," Blake said again, and this time, Celia was in complete agreement. The two of them turned and fled, hoping to outrun the Reaper.

"YEAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Neither Celia nor her partner looked back when they heard the agonized roar. They only ran faster, at least until a black blur surged past them. Then they found themselves face to face with a large, bipedal Noise creature, fully ten feet in height with the head of a lion, powerfully muscled arms, and legs drawn in a tattooed pattern, similar to the Noise.

This time, both Celia and her partner went for their Player pins, wondering what sort of abomination had found them.

"Leo Cantus. Minamimoto's Noise form. Infused with Taboo Noise, he has become nearly impervious to harm. When he enrages, back away and wait for an opening."

"The lion," Celia whispered, remembering their mission's warning.

Leo Cantus then reverted to the form of Sho Minamimoto, the Conductor. His figure bore a dark gray tinge, as if he was constantly standing in a shadow despite his lit surroundings, but otherwise, he looked exactly as Celia remembered him. "Prepare to be iterated," he taunted threateningly.

In the distance, the other Players and the Taboo Noise they were fighting vanished. A second later, Blake disappeared from Celia's side, too. Celia met the Conductor's gaze firmly, trying to fight off a growing sensation of dread when she realized there would be no escape for her or her partner.

* * *

"Damn it!" Selena cried, as she touched down in the midst of the battle, Dennis at her side.

"Too late," Dennis muttered, shaking his head as he watched the Conductor draw Celia and Blake into a battle. "Think we can pull them out?"

"Only if he's willing to break away from them and attack us instead," Selena said, shaking her head. "And Celia and Blake said that the Conductor has a grudge against them for some reason. If that's true, there's no way we're pulling him off of them."

"Um… I think we have a bigger problem on our hands," Dennis said nervously.

Focused on the Conductor as they had been, neither of the Reapers had noticed the last of the Players around them falling prey to the Taboo Noise. Up north, the battle raged on, but the skirmish at the southern end of the park had come to a bleak end, leaving the two Reapers surrounded by Taboo Noise. Rex Cantus remained nearby, but even his horde of summoned Noise were keeping less than half of their Taboo counterparts occupied.

"Well, this ought to be interesting," Selena sighed, as fifteen Taboo Noise of different strains surrounded her and Dennis. "Fight or flight?"

Before Dennis could answer, a scintillating pillar of white light, swirling with frozen droplets, plunged downwards from the sky, drilling into a Choirfrog. The column expanded outwards, quickly encompassing and freezing four Noise. More columns then began raining down, until nearly all of the Taboo Noise had been frozen solid.

"Where is Minamimoto?" the Game Master demanded tersely, dropping down between Selena and Dennis.

Selena gestured wordlessly towards where the Conductor had begun his battle against Celia and Blake.

"Sir, you don't mean to fight him on your own, do you?" Dennis asked, flabbergasted.

"I'd rather not, but Michael got himself erased this morning. That limits my options a little, doesn't it?" the Game Master replied calmly, though there was a hint of anger in his tone.

"Game Master, allow me to fight at your side," Selena volunteered.

"We'll see," was the Game Master's only reply.

* * *

"Inverse matrix!" Minamimoto announced. Black, vine-like threads erupted from the tattoos across his arms, winding outward and wrapping themselves into the shape of two monochrome crabs.

Celia looked at the two Noise questioningly.

"Carcinopunk. This resilient Taboo crab shields itself behind its unbreakable claws, ready to counter any attack," Michael's voice explained.

"The Taboo noise really do follow him," Celia whispered, fighting off her growing horror. She pointed her Lightning Rook pin at one of the two crabs experimentally. Her intended victim lifted its claws defensively, absorbing the bolt effortlessly. Then it began to spin, gliding along the floor with incredible speed as if it were a top.

Celia countered quickly, drawing a wall of ice between her and the spinning crab. The wall cracked, but held, and the deflected crab veered into its companion instead. Unfortunately, the second crab had also thrown up its blocky pincers in time. A moment later, both Noise were spinning wildly around Celia like deadly whirlwinds.

Deciding to keep herself out of their reach, Celia called her stylus back to her, drawing herself a pair of colorful, chitinous butterfly wings. When the crabs didn't float up after her, the young artist knew she was safe, at least for the moment. She studied the two Noise carefully, mentally noting their paths, then opened a chasm below.

"So zetta slow!" Minamimoto taunted, flinging another Noise at her. This time, it was one of the Death Metal Minks Celia had seen Graham and Jason battling.

Celia knew at once that her trip with the crevasse wouldn't work against the flying Noise. Still, the added mobility of her wings offered her comfort. She called her stylus back to her side, willing it to refresh the fading lines of her wings as she swooped out of the Noise's path, easily eluding the creature's deadly claws.

The Noise recovered quickly, though, and began spinning as the crabs had done, forming a deadly twister that began dancing back and forth, slicing through the sky. Celia dove into a spiral, frantically trying to stay ahead of the Noise as she repeatedly fired bolts of lightning at it.

Eventually, the Death Metal Mink came to a stop, seeming no worse for the wear. Celia began a more complicated sketch in the meantime, and an elaborate dragon's head burst from the ground, ruthlessly swallowing the Noise.

Before she could celebrate her short-lived victory, a black metallic claw tore through the top of the conjured dragon's head. The mink burst into the air, slicing Celia's summoned dragon cleanly in half, then went into another spin.

Celia began to run, her stylus retracing the thinned lines of her wings. She took to the air soon after once more, and this time, she didn't waste her time attacking with Lightning Rook. Instead, she concentrated on an image of a mountain of precariously stacked boulders, and her stylus went to work.

The mink came out of its wild spin just as the mountain materialized. The boulders promptly slipped free, and an avalanche came down upon the Noise, pummeling into the ground and entombing it beneath an immovable, stony mound.

Something flickered between the cracks of the many boulders. Not wanting to take any chances that the Noise could still be alive, Celia drew another gaping ravine below, and the boulders began to fall once more, dragging the captive Noise out of sight.

"You valueless fractal! You're but a single iteration from becoming undefined!" Minamimoto roared. He called three more Carcinopunk Noise to his side, then disappeared.

Sensing danger, Celia lunged towards where Minamimoto had been standing, her wings carrying her into a sidelong spiral so that she could look back. Her opponent reappeared a second later, right behind where _she_ had been standing. Deadly red blades erupted from his extended palm, thankfully missing Celia by several feet. She countered with a sizzling bolt of lightning, hoping to blast her opponent apart before he could infuse himself with Taboo Noise instead.

Celia's lightning fizzled out harmlessly. Her heart sank as she realized that Minamimoto, even in his humanoid form, was protected by the Taboo Noise.

"Sine!" Minamimoto announced, sending three more red blades spinning outwards and forcing Celia into a dive. "Cosine!" A second wave of blades appeared, spiraling outward in every direction. "Tangent!"

Even as Celia shot up into the air, narrowly leaping over the second wave of blades, more of the deadly red projectiles began raining down from the sky. With a yelp, Celia began desperately weaving between the blades, but one of them sliced through her wings, shattering them. She plummeted down onto the grassy field, and a second blade clipped her ankle, leaving a wicked gash and sending waves of searing pain shooting up her leg.

Celia curled up in pain, clutching at her wounded ankle. At the same time, she knew Minamimoto would be upon her soon, and willed her stylus to begin drawing, wondering if there was any hope she could catch her dangerous opponent by surprise.

A heavy iron ball attached to a thick metal chain appeared beside Minamimoto, lashing his legs together and pinning him to the ground. Celia's stylus then began sketching another crevasse, but before she could finish her drawing, the chain shattered with a deafening snap. "You're out of your vector!" Minamimoto thundered, teleporting himself out of reach of the irksome stylus.

Celia immediately turned her stylus around, redirecting it behind her again. Her sketch completed just in time, summoning another crevasse to catch the three crab Noise as they barreled toward her and neatly disposing of them. Then she rose, spinning and punching outwards with Lightning Rook, predicting correctly that Minamimoto would use that opening to launch another attack. Forked lightning deflected the next wave of Minamimoto's blade-like projectiles and pushed through, splashing harmlessly against Minamimoto's Noise-infused form.

"Zetta slow!" Minamimoto laughed, charging straight up to Celia and throwing out a powerful punch. She started another drawing and tried to turn away in the meantime, but the Reaper's fist caught her painfully on the cheek, throwing her down to the ground once more.

Ignoring the stinging bruise, Celia forced herself to finish envisioning her next drawing, and before Minamimoto could finish her off, a tidal wave appeared. It rolled past, carrying both Celia and Minamimoto along with it and rolling them across the meadow.

The Reaper extricated himself quickly, but Celia didn't bother struggling, redrawing her wings instead as she waited for the wave to fade away on its own. Once the wave disappeared, she soared back up into the sky, raining meteors down at her foe as she did.

Minamimoto stood there, unflinching, as the meteors crashed down on and around him. Then, standing amidst the sweltering blaze, he flashed Celia a wicked, defiant smile, apparently unharmed. "Insignificant," he said, laughing dismissively. Then he let out another inhumane roar, and his figure became blurred, twisting and distorting. Massive black wings extended from his back, not a pair as most Reapers had, but a full six, three on each side. The wings folded in, shattering and melting into Minamimoto's form, completing the transformation.

Leo Cantus leered up at Celia, challenging her to make the first move.

Running out of options, Celia fished out the rest of her pins, looking them over frantically. Her stylus, which had yet to draw anything effective against the monstrous Reaper. Lightning Rook, which had proven equally ineffective. The blank pin that the man in the coffee shop had given her, which remained blank and lifeless. Her Player pin.

"So zetta slow!" Leo Cantus jeered. He still spoke in Minamimoto's voice, but now his tone seemed deeper and more feral. Celia looked up in time to see the Noise leaping through the air at her. She tried to fly aside, but one of the Noise's clawed hands slapped against her, tearing through her shirt and leaving several vicious scratches in her side. "Zetta slow!" the Noise proclaimed again, spinning and kicking Celia in the back, shattering her wings.

Celia fell limply to the ground, stunned. Before she could recover, she felt one of the Noise's deadly claws wrap around her slender waist, lifting her high into the air.

"Infinity!" Leo Cantus boomed, so loudly that Celia felt as if her eardrums were about to burst. She writhed and flailed, hoping to break free, but the Noise's grip was impossibly tight. She closed her eyes, and for the briefest second, she felt the wind rushing past her as Leo Cantus flung her powerfully at the ground.

Celia's breath was stolen away a split second later when she suddenly stopped, but the expected pain did not come. Several more seconds passed before she dared to open her eyes.

The small, glassy feather Faith had given her hung suspended before her eyes, dangling in midair. A sphere of similar feathers had formed a protective shell around her. Chilling mist drifted off the feathers, filling the sphere and sending a shiver down Celia's spine.

"N factorial!" Leo Cantus cried, slamming his fists repeatedly into the sphere of glass feathers. With each savage blow, a few of the feathers fell free, disintegrating into snowflakes. Still, the barrier held, and Celia took the chance to recover her footing, doing her best to ignore her numerous stinging wounds.

The young artist called to her stylus once more, willing it to move instantaneously to her side, through the shield. The magical implement obliged her and appeared within the protective sphere, and began to draw. This time, Celia wasn't even sure what she was trying to draw. Multicolored swirls formed across the grass at her feet in a kaleidoscopic pattern, spreading and growing more elaborate with each line drawn.

The feathered shield finally expired with a tinkling noise akin to shattering glass. Leo Cantus loomed over his victim triumphantly.

Celia looked up, meeting the Noise's gaze fearlessly. The pattern on the ground rose into the air around her, then exploded outward in a shifting, psychedelic wave. Caught in the pattern, Leo Cantus thrashed wildly, but couldn't quite break through the chromatic weave as it wrapped around him and forced him back.

But even that powerful and chaotic drawing had had little effect, and when it faded, Leo Cantus seemed stung, but hardly injured. Worse still, the glass feather Faith had left for Celia had shattered along with the barrier. Celia felt a heart wrenching tug as she watched the last of the shards melt away as if they had been made of ice.

Jason had been right, Celia knew. Even the other Players probably would have faltered in the face of the Conductor's nigh-invincible Noise form. She and Blake had simply never stood a chance. "Blake, please…" she whispered, reaching out for her partner. She knew that he was trying his best to help her, and that even as she spoke, he was likely struggling against their foe as she was. She knew that without working with him, and without him working with her, they would never survive. She wanted so desperately to find the connection that Jason had spoken of, so that she could borrow her partner's strength or lend him her own.

The only answer she found was a dull throb. Nothing more.

"Drown in a sea of imaginary numbers!" Leo Cantus roared. He raised his clawed hands, and began advancing upon her once more. Celia raised her stylus pin, even as she wondered to herself what the point was. She couldn't hurt her opponent, nor could she begin to protect herself from him.

The world unexpectedly flickered. Leo Cantus backed off in surprise, a startled expression appearing upon his leonine face. In that brief moment, Celia caught a glimpse of Graham, Jason, Laura, Vivian, and a few other Players she didn't recognize, standing nearby and gaping at her.

A golden chain appeared and wrapped around her weightlessly. Then it faded away, and with it, the other Players disappeared, too, leaving Celia apparently alone with Leo Cantus once more.

But this time, Celia knew she wasn't alone. She felt her partner's presence beside her, a gloriously bright warmth that stood by her, reassuring her and promising her all the strength that she needed. With her confidence restored, she readied her stylus pin.

* * *

"Seriously, fuck you and whatever you're made out of," Blake swore, as his magical lances bounced off of Leo Cantus for about the hundredth time. Undaunted, the teen summoned silvery-blue chains to hold his foe still. Then, switching pins, he summoned a heavy axe to drop downwards and cleave the Noise in too.

Leo Cantus tore the chains apart effortlessly. "Where's your beauty?" he laughed in his rumbling, animalistic growl. Then, as if taunting Blake, he stood there and allowed the axe to connect. The mighty weapon shattered upon contact, leaving the powerful Noise unharmed.

"Zetta slow!" Leo Cantus growled, kicking Blake aside. Blake instinctively teleported away to keep his opponent away, but Leo Cantus simply teleported after him. "So zetta slow!" Another powerful kick sent Blake rolling helplessly across the meadow.

As Blake tried to recover his breath, he sensed someone calling to him. He knew it was his partner, but the voice seemed impossibly weak, and try as he might, he could not answer. "Damn it… damn it!" he cried, as he tried so desperately to reach out to her in return.

Then her presence was just gone. Shocked, Blake climbed back onto his feet, only to find Players and Reapers alike standing nearby.

Standing nearby, surrounding him, Celia, and a third person, a tall, imposing man wearing a long, black trench coat. Blake watched speechlessly as golden chains circled Celia and their newest ally. Then the two of them became translucent as their battle against Leo Cantus began.

* * *

"Minamimoto-san! Ka katekoi!" the Game Master called out challengingly.

Leo Cantus glowered at him. "Zetta osoi!" the Noise roared.

The Game Master grinned confidently and shook his head. "Oro kana," he scolded. "Watashi wa makeru wake niwa ikanai!" It was quite bold, claiming that he could not lose in the face of the powerful Noise, but the Game Master's expression showed no hint of doubt. He knew he had made the right decision, and that the risk he had taken would pay off.

Leo Cantus lunged at his impudent challenger, but the Game Master backed away swiftly, easily escaping the Noise's reach.

"Hikari to yami no tsubasa wo hiroge!" the Game Master proclaimed, readying his pins.

* * *

Almost immediately, Celia felt a sudden surge of power. She could almost imagine her partner standing beside her, channeling his own will through her to join her in manifesting her psych. Her stylus flashed through the air, drawing four red streaks. The markings became flaming arrows, which spiraled forward, biting deep into her Noise foe.

Leo Cantus flinched as the flames took hold of him, then teleported himself behind Celia. He kicked out, but Celia was faster, interposing a fence of iron bars between them. The Noise's powerful kick crushed through the fence, but it had slowed him enough for Celia to slip out of reach.

Celia thought to attack again, but realized her power was beginning to ebb, flowing to her partner instead. "Get him good," she whispered, concentrating hard on that same thought. This time, as if in answer to her hopes, she sensed a hint of her partner's surety and conviction.

Her stylus went to work, imprisoning Leo Cantus within another cage of iron bars. The Noise teleported himself away, only to reappear within a blinding cloud of fog.

"The world is garbage!" Leo Cantus roared in frustration, bursting out of the fog and slashing his claws wildly, attacking in entirely the wrong direction. By the time he found Celia, she had redrawn her wings and taken to the sky once more. The Noise's lips curled into a feral grin, and he teleported up beside her, floating in thin air. "Zetta slow!"

But at that same moment, Celia felt another exhilarating rush, and she knew it was her turn to strike. Lightning Rook came up, and a bolt of lightning intercepted Leo Cantus's punch, staggering him and dropping him back down to the ground. She managed a second bolt just before the empowering sensation wore off, leaving a wicked scorch mark on the Noise's back.

Leo Cantus stiffened, then vanished. Minamimoto reappeared, only he looked different now. His cap had disappeared, and his medium-length gray hair scattered wildly around him. His fine coat had become a ragged mess, with both sleeves torn away messily, and the front of it shredded as well, exposing his tattooed chest.

"Foil! First outer, inner last!" Minamimoto cried, thrusting one arm forward.

Celia braced herself, waiting to dodge the spinning red blades again. Instead, the air itself seemed to explode around her, and she was battered by scorching waves of heat from all sides. She retreated hastily, shaking off the attack just as a second wave of explosions went off harmlessly around Minamimoto.

Then Minamimoto disappeared, reappearing right beneath her. "Sine!" he cried, shooting a wave of spinning red blades upward. Celia dove aside, redrawing her wings again, and Minamimoto spun away, throwing out a second wave. "Cosine!"

"Tangent?" Celia guessed wryly, neatly slipping between two blades from the second wave, and springing up to dodge the third.

"Tangent!"

Celia's prediction paid off, and a moment later, she felt her power growing once more. Another rain of meteors descended upon Minamimoto, and this time, he couldn't simply ignore it. The explosions tossed him back and forth like a ragdoll, setting him ablaze.

Minamimoto flipped himself back onto his feet, though he stumbled slightly, for the damage he had sustained was finally catching up to him. "Inverse matrix!" he declared, summoning a pair of Death Metal Minks.

"They're all yours," Celia whispered to her absent partner, imagining a pair of iron bolas. High above her, her stylus went to work, drawing and then lobbing the bolas at the two Noise. Chained together, the Noise collapsed to the ground. They tore themselves free a second later, but before either could make a move against the young artist, they were destroyed in the other zone and promptly faded away.

"Die, radian!" Minamimoto ordered, firing off yet another salvo of magical blades. This time, he followed up on the projectiles by teleporting up to Celia.

Celia was ready for him, though. Waves of electricity arced out from Lightning Rook, blasting the magical blades away, and when Minamimoto reappeared, he found himself standing in a pile of thorny vines, which promptly snaked up, binding his legs.

"Zetta slow!" Minamimoto gloated, teleporting himself away from the vines. He wasn't quite as clever as he had thought, though, for when he reappeared yet again, a meteor caught him squarely in the face.

Now falling into a comfortable rhythm with her partner, Celia readied herself to stall and for her next window again. However, she had only just finished drawing a defensive bubble around herself when she thought she heard a calling from her pocket from one of her pins. She soared away from Minamimoto and retrieved the pin.

It took her several seconds to realize what she was looking at. It was the blank pin given to her by the strange man in the coffee shop, only it was no longer blank. Instead, it now showed a halo of glowing electricity surrounding a beautiful crystalline snowflake, far more elaborate than the one displayed on her Player pin. She stared, entranced, as the snowflake pattern slowly twirled and gleamed.

Then she felt another call, this time from the other zone, and she knew her partner wanted her to use the pin. Though it made little to no sense, she began moving with absolute confidence, ignoring her opponent entirely as she concentrated on her newest weapon.

A column of pure light fell over Celia, and snowflakes rained down around her, creating an illusion of a sudden, peaceful snowfall. Minamimoto's projectiles slammed harmlessly into the column, as, without consciously thinking of it, Celia began to draw once more. Her stylus reached out far and began spinning around her in circles, leaving crackling trails of lightning. Again and again it went around her, thickening the pulsing wall of energy.

Then Celia felt her partner projecting his power to her, and she knew it was time. Complete serenity came over her as she loosed her psych, causing the lightning to erupt wildly. A powerful gale came to life around her, and the steady snowfall became a fearsome blizzard.

"Your dreams are calling to you," Celia whispered peacefully, allowing the wind to carry her words impossibly far, each melodic note resonating with perfect clarity.

"And your reality's winter has arrived."

At first, Celia thought she must have imagined the voice. Then she looked up and caught a glimpse of someone hovering above her, silhouetted against the blinding lightning and pure snow. She knew it had to be her partner, for she could sense his elation and triumph as if it were her own, and she knew he was sharing in her relief, too. Yet at the same time, his voice hadn't sounded like Blake's.

Before she could think any more about it, the storm disappeared, and her partner with it. Minamimoto stood in front of her, a shocked expression on his face. He collapsed to his knees, then, and his form dissolved into a mess of static, before slowly disintegrating into nonexistence.

* * *

When Celia saw the other Players and Reapers reappear, she let out a long sigh of relief. Then she glanced up at her partner, who was standing ahead of her, his back turned towards her. She knew at once that it wasn't Blake, and though she could not see his face, she knew immediately who he was. Her heart skipped a beat, and trembling, she began moving closer to him.

"Get away from her!" Blake suddenly cried out. His hand closed tightly around Celia's wrist, and he dragged her back.

"Blake!" Celia gasped in shock.

"Relax, Mr. Daniels. Your partner has nothing to fear from me… yet," the Game Master promised.

Celia tore herself free from Blake's grasp, and began running towards the Game Master. Halfway there, she stopped dead in her tracks, as the strangeness of the situation finally sank in. Still, she knew that voice, as clearly as she would have known her own. "Faith," she whispered.

Faith turned and smiled. "Hello, C," he greeted warmly. He looked astonishingly different from when Celia had last seen him. He had traded his formal business attire for a simple t-shirt and slacks, and his suit had been replaced with a long, black leather trench coat. His glasses were gone, and faint shadows ringed his eyes, an uncharacteristic sign of weariness. His medium-length hair was no longer neatly combed, and danced messily around him, giving him an uncanny resemblance to Minamimoto.

Still, it was him, Celia knew. There could be no mistake. "It's you. It's really you," she murmured. Assailed with every impossible detail at once, she involuntarily took a step back.

"Yes, it's really me," Faith said patiently. Now, there was a hint of sadness apparent in his smile.

"But how?" Celia asked, her voice still barely more than a whisper. "How can you be here? _Why_ are you here?"

"I can be here because this is where I belong," Faith replied simply. "As for why I am here… well, it's customary for the Game Master to introduce himself towards the end of the week. Now's as good a time as any, don't you think?"

Faith dipped into an animated, exaggerated bow.

"Faith Hollow, Game Master of Seattle's third Reapers' Game."

* * *

 _The light will keep on shining on and on,_

 _The oath we made that day will shimmer bright,_

 _Sometimes, I want to laugh and cry at once,_

 _Explain to me, what is justice? What is right?_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Someday... sort of. Actually, I never liked the translated lyrics in the localization. No other song felt appropriate for Minamimoto's chapter, though, so I replaced most lines with my own translation of the original Japanese lyrics, adjusting them to fit the song's rhythm.**

 **"Irrashaimase" is a traditional greeting / welcome, and a customary greeting used by restaurant staff and hosts.**

 **"Doumo" is a casual way of saying thank you.**

 **"Ka katekoi" is somewhere between a challenge and a taunt, sort of like a Japanese "come at me!"**

 **"Oro kana, watashi wa makeru wake niwa ikanai" roughly translates to "Fool, I cannot be defeated."**

 **"Hikari to yami no tsubasa wo hiroge," roughly translates to "Light and darkness's wings are spread." This particular line comes from a play.**


	8. Day Six: Despairing Crescendo

**~ Day Six ~**

 **Despairing Crescendo**

* * *

 _Emptiness strikes you out of nowhere,_

 _Emptiness, don't need any heaven,_

 _Feel the longing that's fading out of me,_

 _Emptiness drives you into silence,_

 _Emptiness makes people live life,_

 _Feel the fading that's lighting your way out…_

* * *

Blake awoke the following morning with a start. He hadn't wanted to fall asleep the day before, but he simply could not find the strength to resist the Game Master's will. He immediately began searching for his partner nearby, though a part of him hoped she'd still be asleep, free of the Game for just a few more precious moments.

No such luck. Celia was already awake, too, and sat curled up against a nearby wall, staring blankly towards the street without truly seeing anything. Her expression was emotionless and inscrutable, but a short glance made it clear that she had been awake for quite some time already.

"Good morning," Blake said hesitantly.

"Good morning," Celia replied automatically, her voice raspy and faint.

Blake stood there for some time, unsure as to what to say. "Celia… I'm sorry," he finally said.

Celia only closed her eyes and put her head down against her knees.

"If… if you need someone to talk to… I mean, I know I'm probably the last person you'd choose, but… well, I'm here. I'll listen. We're still partners, right? That's the least I can do," Blake offered.

"Thank you," Celia said in a muffled tone, without looking up.

Partners. Blake would have scoffed aloud at the thought, if it weren't for how thoroughly miserable Celia looked already. It all seemed to be a cruel, humorless joke. Pact or no pact, the week was nearly over, and he had yet to offer his supposed partner anything more than pain and frustration.

Even Faith, the man who had so thoroughly deceived them, the man who had orchestrated their torture from the sidelines, had proven himself to be a better partner to her. Celia and Faith had seemed flawless together, working in perfect unison and finding a level of trust and empathy that Blake could only dream of sharing with anyone.

Blake stepped away from Celia. "Not now," he berated himself in a soft whisper, shaking away his self-pity. "She's already a wreck… who can blame her? But if I fall apart now, we're both finished." He took a deep breath, then reached for his phone.

No mission.

"Fine. More time for me to think," Blake said. He began looking around, and to his surprise, he immediately recognized where they were. He was standing at the edge of the parking lot where he and Celia had faced the chess king, Rex Cantus. Behind him, Celia was leaning against a supporting stone column, right beside the bench which he had sat on that day.

Graham and Jason were standing fairly close by, Laura and Vivian just a bit farther. Six more people who looked to be Players were wandering around the lot as well. Shimmering, translucent barriers of blue light sealed every way out of the immediate area, unseen to those in the Realground, for pedestrians and cars alike moved in and out of them without a fuss.

"Are we the only ones left alive, then?" Blake guessed. "Well, the only ones not erased, anyways. I think we're technically all dead, still."

Blake began considering the barriers more carefully then. He knew it was no accident that all the Players were starting out together, and the barriers must have been Faith's way of keeping them corralled together, at least until the mission arrived. It was also the first time the walls had been clearly visible, he realized.

"They must be part of the mission, too," Blake muttered. "And since we're all here, the Reapers must want us to work together again." Of course, Faith could have trapped them together in an attempt to make them compete with one another, but that didn't seem likely. As much as Blake hated to admit it, there did seem to be a certain method to the Game Master's apparent madness.

Blake glanced back at Celia, who still had not moved. Then he understood what he had to do, and a knot tightened in his stomach as he looked over at Graham and Jason.

"She's your partner. She can't help you right now, but you might still be able to help her. Suck it up," Blake reminded himself firmly. With that said, he took a deep breath and approached the other two Players.

~ LINEBREAK ~

Asleep or awake, regardless of whether her eyes were closed or open, Celia could only see shadows looming all around her. The Noise, the Reapers, even the other Players.

She could sense him lurking behind them, just out of sight. She knew he was the puppet master, tugging at unseen strings, endlessly turning the wheels of the Reapers' Game. He was the one standing between her and the other Players and their lives.

And yet she could neither fear nor hate him. For one intimate, fleeting moment, the two of them had found absolute harmony. Even though she hadn't realized who he was, she had trusted him, and he, in turn, had trusted her. Every feeling that had gone through his mind and heart had gone through hers as well, and looking back, she could share in his subtle, darker emotions as well. Veiled behind his joy and triumph, there was helplessness and dread, sorrow and regret.

She wanted to reach out to him, to push through the Reapers' Game and the crumbled ruins of her dreams. She also wanted to pull away, to leave him and her suffering behind.

"Help me," she pleaded in an inaudible whisper, praying that he could still sense her now despite their pact being sundered, hoping beyond hope that he would reach out to her.

~ LINEBREAK ~

 _"Faith Hollow, Game Master of Seattle's third Reapers' Game."_

 _Upon hearing Faith's declaration, Celia felt her entire body grow numb. She felt as if she were about to collapse, and if it wasn't for a quiet voice in her head, begging her to stand strong, she likely would have._

 _"Game Master," Celia echoed hollowly._

 _"Yes. This game is mine to run, its missions for me to decide," Faith confirmed. "And after just one more mission, we will reach the seventh day. On that day, I will be granted the priviledge of challenging and erasing any surviving Players directly."_

 _"But… but Michael said…" Celia began, glancing towards Rex Cantus. Michael's words came back to her then, and a lump welled in her throat as she realized the truth. When Michael had indicated to her and Blake that they were already acquainted with the Game Master, she had only assumed that he had been speaking of Wilson and Rex Cantus. In hindsight, it didn't surprise her that Michael had known the details of her and Blake's deaths._

 _"Yes, Ariel knew. Sometimes, it felt like he knew everything," Faith said, as if he could hear her unspoken thoughts. Then his expression grew thoughtful. "Everything except how powerful Minamimoto really was, it seems," he corrected himself._

 _"Sir, is the Conductor gone now, too?" Selena interrupted._

 _Faith shook his head. "No. Minamimoto is still in the Hall with Dolphus. He knows he's gone too far, and his little game has run its course, anyways. He'll know better than to trouble me anytime soon."_

 _"Then what was that you were just battling against, sir?" Selena asked._

 _"That was an echo," Faith explained. "When a powerful Noise leaves a significant mark upon the Underground, it often leaves an image of itself behind. In this case, in his victory over Ariel, Minamimoto left a copy of himself and his Noise form."_

 _"He created a copy of himself?" Dennis gasped._

 _"Sure. That's what happens when you've experimented with Noise as much as Minamimoto has," Faith said wryly. "Even without his Noise form, he's more Noise than he is Reaper or man. Taboo Noise, in fact, which is why I doubted Ariel when he chose to confront Minamimoto alone."_

 _"Is that why you broke my pact with Celia, too?" Blake demanded angrily. "So you could rope her into helping you clean up your mess?"_

 _"Precisely," Faith agreed shamelessly. "Please forgive my imposition. Incidentally, you two should take this chance to forge a new pact."_

 _"Faith, wait!" Celia tried to interrupt, but even as she spoke, she felt the connection between them disappear._

 _"I know, Celia. I should've told you," Faith said apologetically. "I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how. Please believe me."_

 _"Why should she?" Blake spat._

 _But Celia found that she did believe Faith, if only because she wasn't ready to accept otherwise. "Faith, I…" she began._

 _"Not now," Faith interrupted her, shaking his head. "We'll see each other soon, Celia. I promise. Until then, sleep well…"_

 _A wave of drowsiness came over Celia, but she tried to resist. "No… Faith, please…" she murmured. She felt herself falling down onto the soft grass. One of her hands closed over a cool, smooth surface._

 _Then the darkness closed in all around her, and Faith was gone._

~ LINEBREAK ~

"Graham. Jason," Blake said, as he approached the other two Players.

Jason looked at him skeptically, but Graham smiled amicably. "Good morning, Blake," the blond greeted in a friendly manner. "What's up?"

Blake took a deep breath, steeling himself before plunging in. "I need your help," he admitted.

"With what?" Graham asked curiously.

"Celia's in a bad way. It's like she's lost, and there's nothing I can do to reach her," Blake said.

"Gee, the man who got her stuck here can't make her feel any better about it. What a surprise," Jason scoffed.

"Jason!" Graham scolded, shutting his partner up. Then he turned back to Blake. "We don't know Celia any better than you do, Blake. I'm not sure Jason or I can help you there."

"I know. She's going to have to work out her problems herself," Blake said. "I just want to give her the time that she needs. That means keeping us going in this game, but…"

"But Players are almost powerless without their partners," Graham reasoned. "You want us to help you with today's mission."

Blake nodded. "I don't know what the Game Master has in mind, locking us all up like this, but I doubt he's up to any good," he guessed.

"I understand," Graham said. "But if we're going to work together today, there's something I need to know."

Blake grinned shakily. "Perfect. There's something I have to ask you, too, but you can go first," he offered.

"Celia knew the Game Master. So did you, by the sounds of it. How?" Graham asked bluntly.

"Faith was Celia's friend," Blake said. "The morning she died…"

"The morning you killed her," Jason corrected harshly.

"Yes," Blake admitted. "The morning I killed her, she was on her way to meet with him. Faith tried to stop me, killing me in the process, but he was too slow to save her."

"Interesting. That explains why the police never caught him, I suppose. The Reapers seem to have quite a few tricks up their sleeves," Graham said thoughtfully.

"I think Faith was the reason Celia was playing this game," Blake went on. "Her primary reason, anyways. I'm sure she has family, and other friends, too, but I saw the way she looked at Faith. He must have meant a lot to her."

"And now he's our enemy. That does seem a bit rough," Graham said sympathetically. "Well, you've answered my question. What's yours?"

"It's pretty similar to yours, really," Blake said. "Are you or Jason Reapers?"

Both Graham and Jason stared at Blake as if he had suddenly grown a new head.

"I don't know what the Reapers are or aren't capable of," Blake explained. "All I know is that you two have known your way around since the beginning, and that every time someone asks, your answer is the same: the Reapers told you. Maybe it's true. Then again, maybe it's not. I need to know for sure… so please, tell me. Are either of you Reapers?"

"Of course not," Jason said, rolling his eyes. Graham, too, shook his head.

"Are either of you working for or with the Reapers?" Blake asked.

"Not unless you count the missions where the Reapers were sent to work beside us," Graham said. "We are Players, just like you, Blake. Just like every other Player, we died, and now we're stuck here until we win or give up."

Several long seconds went by as Blake stared at Graham calculatingly. Finally, he relented. "Alright, then. I believe you. Please… help me help my partner," he requested.

"Is this about your partner, or about you?" Jason interrupted with a scowl.

"About her," Blake replied evenly. "I don't deserve another chance at life. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. But Celia does. She shouldn't even be here. I owe it to her to get her out of here, no matter what it takes."

"No matter what it takes? Even if it takes erasing her friend, the person you claim may be her best reason for wanting to live again?" Graham challenged.

That stole the bravado from Blake's expression. "I really hope it doesn't come to that," he admitted. "I'm not sure I could defeat Faith, even if I wanted to. I know Celia can't. I don't know what will happen if it comes to that; I can only see one step ahead of me right now, and that's making it through this day. That's the step I want to take."

"Fair enough," Graham said. "We can work together, then. When the mission shows up, anyways. You should go talk to Celia, by the way. We'll want her to stick with us. In the meantime, I'm going to check on the other Players."

"Okay. Thanks," Blake said, watching as Graham left. He then turned and started towards Celia, but Jason quickly stopped him.

"Blake, wait," Jason said nervously.

"What is it?" Blake asked, surprised by the discomfort he saw in Jason's face.

"Look, Graham and I weren't lying. We're not Reapers, and we aren't working for the Reapers, either," Jason began.

"I know. I believe you," Blake said.

"But we're not your friends," Jason went on quietly, glancing over his shoulder at Graham. "Or at least, Graham isn't. We all know that we need to stick together and tough it through this week, but Graham only wants to seem like he has everyone's best interests in mind. He's changed, lately. I've known him for years, but now, even I can't really tell what he's thinking. All I know is that he's only looking out for one person now: himself. Do you understand?"

"I expected as much," Blake admitted. "I still remember how our third mission ended. I know if it comes down to a choice between taking a risk and letting other Players shoulder that risk for you, you two will think of yourselves, first. I was pissed off about it then, but now that I've had time to think, I probably would've done the same thing myself."

"That's not what really happened," Jason said quickly. "Look… I… never mind. Just be careful, alright?"

"Alright," Blake said, looking more confused than ever as he watched Jason scurry away.

* * *

 _Complete the frozen monument. You have 480 minutes. Fail, and face erasure._

 _\- The Reapers_

* * *

When the mission arrived, Blake read it silently first, before reading it a second time aloud for his partner's sake, as if trying to rouse her from her stupor.

Celia did move then, sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes tiredly. Then she reached into one of her pockets for her phone, silently reading the mission for herself.

"What do you think?" Blake tentatively prompted her.

"I don't know," Celia said listlessly, powering off her phone as timers appeared on their palms.

"Eight hours," Blake noted. "That's the most time we've been given so far, unless we're counting yesterday. This isn't going to be easy."

"No, it isn't," Celia agreed absently.

"Hey, Celia. I talked to Graham and Jason," Blake said. "We'll be working with them today. Is that alright with you?"

"Sure," Celia agreed, her emotionless tone making it clear that she didn't really care either way.

Blake stared at her for a while. "Okay. Good," he finally said, privately doubting he was about to make any more progress than that. "Let's go meet up with them, alright? Then we can see about getting rid of these walls." He looked up, searching for Graham and Jason, but stopped as his eyes locked upon a large pedestal, seemingly carved from ice. "Was that always there?"

"Was what always there?" Celia asked, looking up. She, too, saw the pedestal, but since she hadn't bothered looking earlier, she didn't have an answer for Blake.

"Let's go take a closer look," Blake said, trying to sound encouraging. He offered Celia a hand, helping her to her feet, and together, they went to join the other Players grouped around the pedestal.

* * *

Resting atop the frozen pedestal was a partially-completed sculpture of a medieval castle. Its outer walls formed a hexagon, with six towers, standing at each corner. One wall was missing entirely, presumably for the entrance. Within the walls, there was only a single doorway, offset from the center slightly towards the missing wall.

Two pins rested nearby, a blue pin decorated with a black decal shaped like a key, and a pin similar to their Player pins, with an icon of a hammer set against the snowflake background.

Laura was in the midst of reaching for one of the pins when Blake and Celia arrived.

"Don't touch it," Vivian warned, and Laura retracted her hand quickly, as if she had been burned. "It could be a trap."

"Trap or no trap, we don't have any other way to proceed," Graham reasoned aloud. "We're locked in here, and this has to be the monument the mission spoke of. Unless someone's got a box of puzzle pieces lying around, these pins have to be the key to solving this mission."

"Maybe we're supposed to make our own pieces from ice cubes," another Player suggested.

"And just where are we going to find ice cubes? The supermarket that's blocked off by a wall?" Laura asked impatiently.

Before anyone could stop him, Graham reached over and scooped up both of the pins. "Not a trap," he said a moment later, when nothing happened. "But… not useful, either." He passed the pins over to Laura.

"The hammer pin only contains part of a psych, it feels like," Laura noted. "There's power in there, but it's incomplete."

"What about the other pin?" Blake asked.

"It also carries a psych, but I don't know how to use it," Laura admitted. "I'm trying to call to it, but it isn't responding. Maybe I'm using it wrong."

"May I try?" one of the Players, a scruffy-looking man with an impressive mustache, requested. Laura passed the pin over to him, and he closed his eyes, focusing on it.

"It feels like it wants to get rid of something," he mumbled. "Are we supposed to use this to remove additions that we don't like?"

"Let me see it," Blake asked. The other man shrugged and handed the pin over, and Blake did the same thing, reaching for the pins psych with his mind.

"A pin that undoes mistakes, and a pin that… doesn't do anything," Graham mused. "That's not very helpful."

"This pin isn't for undoing mistakes," Blake corrected, understanding the pin's purpose. "It's for removing walls."

"For removing walls?" Jason asked blankly. "Are you sure?"

"Why would the Reapers put up these walls, then give us a pin to remove them?" Graham asked skeptically. "They could have removed the walls themselves as soon as the pedestal appeared."

"I don't know. It's just a guess," Blake admitted. "But the pin's definitely trying to remove something, and we're not getting anything done stuck in here with these two pins. Plus, it's blue, and the walls keeping us in are blue. Mind if I try it out?"

When no one objected, Blake began strolling towards the nearest blue wall. The others followed curiously, save for Celia, who tagged along but appeared to still be lost in thought. Once he was standing before the nearest wall of blue light, Blake tried invoking the blue pin once more.

White lines creased that section of the wall, separating it into small, diamond-shaped tiles. Then the tiles shrank away, and their way was clear.

"Good guess," Graham remarked. "Our mission's beginning to make some sense." He pointed down the now-open road. Some of the sides were blocked by walls of gray light, while one was blocked by a wall of green light. A Reaper Blake didn't recognize stood in front of the wall with his wings extended, marking him clearly for the Players to see.

"The hammer pin isn't a complete psych," Vivian understood. "We have to collect the rest of the pins, then use them to finish assembling the model castle."

"And in order to collect the rest of the pins, we'll have to find the other key pins to clear the walls," Graham said. "It's a maze, basically. We might not be able to clear the gray walls at all. They seem almost out of place beside the green one and the blue ones we left behind."

"Let's go ask that Reaper about his wall," Laura suggested, gesturing towards the Reaper by the green wall. "He's looking this way. I think he's waiting for us to approach him."

In answer, Graham looked back towards the three translucent blue walls behind them. "We shouldn't all go," he said. "The pins we're searching for – both the key pins and the ones we need for finishing the castle – could be pretty much anywhere. The other blue walls can't be just for show, either."

"We should split up to cover more ground," Vivian reasoned, grasping Graham's meaning at once. "Especially since we don't know how long it will take to put the model together when we have all the pins."

"Precisely," Graham said. "Blake, could I have the blue key?"

Blake handed the key over without a fuss, but he glanced at Celia uneasily, fearing that he and Celia would need to move off on their own, too.

"Blake, Celia, Jason, and I will keep moving around, removing the walls," Graham suggested, inspecting the keys. "Everyone else can just pick a direction and start pushing outward. If you come across any of the pins, bring the keys back to us, and leave the building pins on the pedestal where we started. If you get stuck with a colored barrier, come check with us and see if we've got the key. If you hit a dead end, just pick another path and go."

"That seems to be a sound plan," Vivian agreed immediately. "Laura and I can handle this one." With that, she and Laura set off, making their way towards the distant Reaper.

"Back the way we came, then," Graham said, leading the way back to the next of the blue walls.

* * *

After the fourth blue wall went down, Graham collected the green pin from Laura and Vivian. Then the two women returned to their own route, forging out further as planned.

Behind the other three blue walls were a green wall, a red wall, and a fork leading to a green and red wall. At the end of the path leading to a lone red wall, Selena was waiting. As two Players set off to deal with whatever challenge she offered, Graham moved to unseal the rest of the green walls. Then one of the Players brought back the red key pin, and Graham began removing the red barriers, too.

"That's the last red one, at least that we know of," Graham announced, when the wall in front of them went down. Behind it, the path seemed fairly open, and forked both left and right. Unfortunately, the rest of the Players had split up long ago, leaving just Blake, Celia, Graham, and Jason together.

"Which way?" Graham asked, glancing at his companions.

Blake looked left, then right. Both paths were lined with gray walls, reaching far and curving so that it wasn't immediately apparent which key pins they would need to proceed further. "Doesn't matter to me," he said.

"Blake and I will go right. You two can head left," Celia said, her first words in quite some time.

Graham rounded on her, surprised. "Are you sure, Celia?" he asked sympathetically.

"Not really. Would you two rather go right? If so, Blake and I can go left," Celia offered.

The other three exchanged questioning glances. Finally, Graham shrugged. "Left is fine with us. You two take care, alright?"

"We will," Blake promised, setting off after Celia, who had already started away.

* * *

"Celia, are you sure about this?" Blake asked, as soon as he was alone with his partner.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Celia asked nonchalantly.

"You don't look well," Blake admitted.

"I don't? That's a surprise," Celia said mildly.

Blake winced. "Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say," he apologized quickly. "I just meant…"

"It's alright, Blake," Celia said reassuringly. "Thank you for worrying. You're right, too; I don't feel well at all. But our situation hasn't changed. We're still dead, and if we don't make it through this game, dead we'll stay."

"But what about Faith?" Blake asked.

"What about him?" Celia asked.

"He's a Reaper," Blake reminded. "He's the one who's been keeping us in this game. He's the one who's been writing missions for us to fail, and granting the Harriers permission to hunt us down with Noise. He finally showed himself yesterday, only to use you like a tool."

"He showed himself yesterday to save us," Celia corrected. "The Noise we were fighting – the Conductor's shadow or echo or whatever – would have erased us both if Faith hadn't stepped in."

Blake stared at her incredulously. "You can't honestly believe he was just there to help us," he said disbelievingly.

Celia shook her head slowly. "I don't know what to believe, but I do know that if he really wanted us gone, he could've let the Taboo Noise finish us both off yesterday. Or he could have erased us earlier, by permitting Bradley and Trevor to use more Noise against us," she pointed out.

"I guess," Blake conceded reluctantly, seeming unconvinced. "But do you really think he's your friend, still?"

"I don't know what he is," Celia admitted unhappily. "I trusted him, but he's been keeping secrets from me this whole time. Maybe he didn't trust me, or maybe he didn't think I'd believe him. Or maybe he had another reason entirely. I just don't know. I think… I think I want to believe he's still my friend, and for that, I need answers. I need to find him."

"But don't you remember what Michael said?" Blake reminded her uncomfortably. "The seventh day's mission is to erase the Game Master. That's Faith. He's going to be the last one standing between us and living again."

"I know," Celia said wearily. "But… the world ends with me."

Blake looked at her, puzzled.

"That's what Hanekoma told me. That man in the coffee shop, remember?" Celia said. "He told me to expand my world, and to push my horizons out as far as they'll go. I think I'm beginning to understand what he meant. I know what I want, see? I want to find Faith, and to hear him tell me that everything's going to be alright. I want to live again, to go back to my life as if none of this had ever happened."

Blake stared at her speechlessly, as if he was afraid she had gone mad.

"I know. It's childish and stupid, and in the end, that's not what's important anyways. What's important is, I don't want _this_ to be the end," Celia said. She gestured around them, indicating the magical walls shepherding them along a pre-determined path, and sidewalks crowded with living, breathing people who couldn't see the Players or any part of the Underground. "Even if no direction feels quite right, the only thing I know for sure is that staying still would be wrong. That means I'll just have to pick a direction and go. I'm going to keep playing this game. I'm going to keep believing that Faith is my friend, and I'm going to keep trusting my friend, even… even if there's a chance that I might be wrong."

"This is all from the advice of a stranger in a coffee shop?" Blake finally managed.

"It's all I have left, really," Celia admitted with a shrug. "Also, I don't know what it was exactly, but there was something a bit strange about Hanekoma."

"Something more than just a creepy tourist chatting up a girl at least ten years younger than he was?" Blake asked dryly.

Celia nodded. "When Faith and I were fighting the Conductor's Noise, the pin Hanekoma gave me did something strange. It was blank when he gave it to me, but during the fight, the pin was calling to me, and a pattern had formed on it."

"Really?" Blake said, adopting a curious look.

Celia reached into her pocket for a pin. To her surprise, she found more pins that she expected. "Where did all of these come from?" she asked, fishing them out. The pin Hanekoma had given her was blank once more, but she found two black pins she did not recognize. The symbol for pi was embossed on one pin in white. The other displayed a white leonine skull.

"Don't you remember?" Blake frowned. "Right before we fell asleep, you dropped one of your pins. I think those two were on the ground beside it, and you scooped them up without looking."

"I did?" Celia murmured. She tried to recall the moment she fell asleep, but it was all a bit hazy, and several seconds later she was no wiser as to what had happened.

"You looked a bit out of it," Blake said. "Whatever. What about that blank pin? Isn't that the one that guy from the coffee shop gave you?"

"I don't understand," Celia said, bewildered. "There was definitely a design on it yesterday when I was using it."

"Let me see it?" Blake requested. Celia handed the blank pin over, and Blake shook it up and down in an almost comical manner. "Nothing. No psych, no design, no nothing," he declared, handing it back. "What about the other pins?"

Celia tried the pin with the lion's skull first, and immediately, she found herself standing behind Blake instead. "So this is how that Noise kept disappearing and reappearing around me," she guessed thoughtfully.

"Or maybe he could do that on his own, and when you erased him, he turned into a pin," Blake suggested. Celia gave him an odd look, and he smiled crookedly. "Okay, maybe not. What about the other pin?"

Celia focused on the pin with the pi symbol, and in her mind's eye, she saw the same symbol hovering before her. The pin definitely contained power of some sort, but she couldn't quite shape it or project it. "It's not doing anything," she finally said. "Do you want to try it?"

"Sure," Blake agreed, accepting the pin. He concentrated on the pin, then gave it a puzzled look. Then he shut his eyes. "I see a giant pi symbol. Figures. I've never seen anyone quite so obsessed with math before."

"Is that really all it does?" Celia said doubtfully, hiding her disappointment. "It felt like there was something more to it."

"It does, doesn't it?" Blake mused. "Hmm… pi!" he suddenly shouted, causing Celia to jump. "Sine? Cosine! Tangent! Infinity!"

"I think that's enough, Blake," Celia said hastily.

But Blake wasn't finished. "Radians! Degrees! Dodecahedrons!" he called. "Three point one four!" As he shouted off the first three digits of pi, the pin suddenly flashed, taking both him and his partner by surprise. When he stopped, a small flash of light burst forwards from the pin.

"Three point one four?" Celia repeated dubiously. "Pi?"

Blake carefully pointed the pin away from Celia. "Three point one four one five nine two six five four," he chanted. The pin flared brighter this time, but the ensuing burst surrounded the pin instead of shooting forward as it had done before, stinging Blake's hand and causing him to drop the pin. "Ouch!"

"So more digits makes it more dangerous to yourself," Celia noted, shaking her head. "Let's just toss it, Blake."

"No, I think that was my fault," Blake said, bending down to retrieve the pin. "That time, it felt almost like the pin itself was angry with me." He lifted the pin up and chanted off the same numbers again, this time stopping after the second five. A sizable flare of light shot outwards and exploded impressively before him. "I guess the next digit isn't a four," he admitted sheepishly.

"Well, I guess you can keep it if you want it," Celia said hesitantly, though it still seemed incredibly unpredictable and dangerous to her. "Do you want the other one, too?"

"No thanks. I have a pin that lets me do the same thing already," Blake replied. "Now come on. We've been standing still far too long. We're supposed to be checking out this path, remember?"

"Right," Celia agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

Celia and Blake soon came across a shimmering wall of golden light, barring them from going any further. Standing by the wall was Dennis, who looked immensely uncomfortable when he spotted the two approaching players.

"Hello, Dennis," Blake greeted.

"H-Hey," Dennis said, glancing nervously at Celia. "Good to see you two. Uh… how are you doing, Celia?"

"About as well as I could have hoped," Celia replied, trying to keep her voice steady. Despite her confident words earlier, she couldn't fully dismiss her nagging doubts.

"Good, good…" Dennis said absently. "Hey, uh… there's something I ought to tell you. Might be a bit late, but…"

"You're the co-worker that Faith mentioned to me," Celia guessed. Then another thought occurred to her, and she winced as a newfound doubt began gnawing at her from within. "When he spoke of you, he called you by a different name, too. I guess he didn't want to risk me knowing you when we met."

Dennis looked at her quizzically. "A different name? Williams, maybe?"

"How did you know?" Celia asked, surprised.

"That's my last name," Dennis clarified. "The Game Master calls pretty much everyone by their last names. He doesn't usually bother with titles, either, not that there's a lot of titles to go around. The Conductor was always just Minamimoto to him."

"Oh," Celia said. Her sudden surge of discomfort faded as quickly as it had come.

"The moment you mentioned the Game Master's name, I figured it out," Dennis admitted. "I mean, there just aren't that many guys named Faith, you know? I thought about saying something, but I wasn't sure how to break it to you. I'm sorry."

"Dennis, Michael told us that the final mission would be to erase the Game Master. Is that true?" Celia asked uncomfortably. "Will we have to erase Faith in order to win?"

Dennis pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't know," he finally said. "BJ says that's usually the case, but last week, the mission for the seventh day was something different. Like I said last time, I'm new to this Reaper gig. There's a lot of rules and traditions to pick up, you know?"

"Does that mean we may not have to fight against Faith, after all?" Celia asked neutrally, trying to keep her hopes contained.

Her partner, on the other hand, didn't bother disguising his own relief. "That's good to hear," Blake said. "So, who's BJ?"

"Another Reaper. One of the veterans. Japanese guy, always wears a black hoodie," Dennis described.

"We've met him before," Celia said, nodding in recognition. "But what do you mean by veterans?"

"With Michael gone, there are only four of us Reapers who really understand what's going on. The rest of us are kind of just picking it up on the fly," Dennis explained.

"Four?" Blake asked.

"Four of them, all from Japan," Dennis nodded. "The Conductor, BJ, BJ's buddy, Tenho, who always dresses in red and doesn't speak English, and…"

"And Faith," Celia finished.

"Yeah, him," Dennis said. "To be honest, BJ's the only one I really talk with. I don't know any Japanese, so talking with Tenho is a bit difficult. Talking to the Conductor's difficult no matter how many languages you know. That just leaves the Game Master; he's nice enough, but he's always been a bit distant. He just hangs around in the office doing his own thing, you know? I wasn't even really sure he was a Reaper until he came with us to deal with some Noise the other day, just before this game started."

"I see," Celia said, disappointed. She had been hoping to learn more of Faith, but it was beginning to sound like no one else really knew much about him, either.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think tomorrow's mission will come down to a fight," Dennis guessed.

"Why do you say that?" Celia asked.

"Because the Game Master's pretty damn tough," Dennis answered. "We Reapers have to partner up to deal with the Taboo Noise, but even then, it's a bit of a struggle. The Game Master showed up all alone yesterday and swatted a dozen Noise aside without breaking a sweat."

"That's not very comforting," Blake commented dryly.

"His game's been pretty reasonable so far, hasn't it?" Dennis pointed out. "I doubt he'd assign you Players an impossible mission." Dennis then turned to face Celia, eyeing her sympathetically. "And I don't think he would make you fight him, either," he added.

Dennis's words seem to hang heavily in the air around them. It was the exact answer Celia had been hoping to hear, but his uncertainty was a grim reminder that no one seemed to truly know anything for certain where the mysterious Game Master was concerned.

"Speaking of missions," Blake said, noticing Celia's discomfort and changing the subject. "How do we get through this wall of yours?"

"With this key pin," Dennis said, holding up a golden pin with a black key embossed upon it. "I'm supposed to make you complete some sort of challenge before I give it to you."

"Okay. What do you want us to do?" Celia asked.

Without warning, Dennis lazily flipped the pin towards here. Then he reached into his pocket and retrieved a second pin. "You two should take this one with you, too," he added, showing them the pin, which was decorated with a silhouette of a woodworking saw set against a silver snowflake. He tossed the second pin at Blake. "These used to belong to Michael. Reapers normally can't use our powers in the Realground, but he could, somehow. He spent many afternoons in the office using these pins to work on that little castle of his."

"You're giving them to us? Just like that?" Blake asked, startled.

"I owe Celia that much, at least," Dennis said with a sheepish grin. "Though, if any of the other Reapers ask, do me a favor and tell them you won these pins off me fair and square, alright?" Then, before either Celia or Blake could recover from their surprise, the Reaper turned and spread his wings, soaring up into the sky and gliding off into the distance.

* * *

Past the wall of golden light, the corridor of tinted gray walls continued on. By unspoken agreement, Celia and Blake forged on, deciding to explore the rest of their path before returning the key pin to the others. The barriers around them continued as a winding corridor might, with turns and twists but always only a single way forward. As such, it was some time before Celia realized something was wrong.

"Blake, I think we're going in a circle," Celia interrupted, looking up at the street signs.

"How could we be going in circles? There's only been one path forward this entire time," Blake protested.

"I mean, I think we're heading back towards where we first split up with Graham and Jason," Celia amended.

Blake didn't seem overly concerned. "Good. That'll save us a long walk back," he said. Then he noticed Celia's worried expression. "It's nothing to worry about," he insisted. "Good mazes are supposed to have loops, else you could always solve them by the right-hand rule, you know?"

"Right-hand rule?" Celia asked him curiously.

"Sure. If you know the maze doesn't have any loops, always turn right when given a choice. That'll bring you to the exit eventually," Blake explained. "Or in our case, you'd eventually cover the entire thing. It all falls apart if you add a loop, though."

"What happens if you hit a dead end?"

Celia and Blake turned to find Bradley walking up to them, a fierce smile upon his face. Both Players readied their pins as they warily watched the approaching Reaper.

"You two don't seem happy to see me," Bradley said, feigning a wounded look. "Sorry for throwing a wrench into your little puzzle-solving scheme."

Blake shook his head in disgust. "What are you talking about? If you hit a dead end, you just turn right until you see an open path, which is the way back. That's kind of the point of the rule," he said irritably.

"Ah, but how would you two turn back if you're dead?" Bradley teased. Eight Noise sigils appeared around him, forming the points of a regular octagon.

"This again? Why do you keep wasting our time with your useless Noise?" Blake scoffed.

Sixteen more sigils appeared, adding two layers to the pattern around Bradley, who grinned cruelly. "Still think they're useless?" the Reaper growled.

"That's quite a lot of Noise," Celia remarked mildly. "Is Faith finally letting you off your leash?" she asked, though she already suspected otherwise.

"No leash can restrain me," Bradley proclaimed angrily. "Least of all one held in the feeble hands of that pup."

Celia narrowed her eyes fiercely, and raised her Lightning Rook pin higher.

"No, Celia," Blake urged, backing up a step and tugging at Celia's arm.

"We can take him," Celia said coldly.

"Really? Perhaps you should take a leaf out of the Conductor's book and learn to count," Bradley gloated. "But just in case…" He gestured, and two more layers of sigils appeared around him. "Wolves, gather!"

All forty sigils pulsed with energy, and Trance Hounds began streaming out of them, forming a swelling, violet tide of Noise.

"Run, Celia," Blake said firmly. "If he's calling this many Noise out, he's clearly not playing by the rules any longer. Even if we can beat the Noise, we'll still have to deal with him."

Celia had half a mind to fight, anyways, but she knew that Blake was probably right. "Fine," she relented.

But she had learned from her attempt to escape the Trance Hounds on the first day, and instead of running, she called to her stylus, which appeared and promptly exploded into motion. A wall of fire emerged from the ground, instantly frying the two Noise closest to them and holding the rest back.

Bradley lifted his pin and fired a jet of water into the fiery blockade, which hissed in protest before dissolving into steam. Still, it had bought Celia the time she needed, and by the time Bradley and his Noise could see again, the two Players were already flapping their newly-drawn wings and gliding away.

* * *

"Why do my wings look like Reaper wings?" Blake grumbled.

"Would you rather have wings like mine?" Celia asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Well, no," Blake admitted.

"That's why," Celia replied, looking ahead. "Hey, why don't we just fly up and over the wall?" she suggested.

Blake nodded and soared up, only to strike an invisible barrier above them. "Damn it," he cried, only barely recovering his balance in time to avoid plummeting down to the ground. "Can't go up," he grumbled.

"Straight ahead, then," Celia offered. But a moment later, that option was lost to them, too, for a translucent wall of red light barred them from continuing any further.

Without any other choice, Blake flew right up to the wall, as if hoping it to be an illusion. He pressed his palms against it and looked at it despairingly, realizing there was no way out. Behind him, Celia turned back warily as the persistent barking grew louder, and the Trance Hounds came into sight once more.

"Now do we fight?" Celia asked, trying to remain calm.

Blake took a deep breath and steadied himself. "Yeah. Time to fight," he agreed.

* * *

Celia descended lightly to the ground as the last of the Trance Hounds disappeared. "That wasn't so bad," she said airily.

"Says you," Blake said, panting. "Some of us can't just dangle out of reach of the Noise, blasting away, you know."

"Look sharp," Celia warned, ignoring his complaining.

A second later, Bradley caught up at last, with a few Trance Hounds trotting alongside him. "You've done well, Players, surviving this long. But now the pack leader has arrived, and the hunt can truly begin." He lifted a pair of pins and assumed a combative stance.

"I thought Reapers were forbidden from attacking Players directly," Celia reminded, though she kept her own pins at hand anyways, hardly expecting her comment to dissuade the Reaper.

"Oh, of course," Bradley conceded. "But who's about to stop me? Michael?" The Reaper howled with laughter. "Your little guardian angel can't save you this time."

Jason's voice cut in abruptly, stealing away the Reaper's bluster. "Celia, Blake!" he called, sprinting towards the crimson wall of light from the other side. "Graham, hurry!"

Blake glanced at Jason, then turned back to Bradley, and it was his turn to grin wickedly. "Sounds like the cavalry has arrived," he said nonchalantly. "I have to say, Reaper, I like these odds."

Celia was less interested in bantering with the Reaper, and waved towards Graham as he approached. "Graham, hurry! Take down this wall!" she called. In truth, she wasn't entirely certain if Graham or Jason could intercede if Bradley chose to attack anyways, but at least the Reaper seemed taken aback by the arrival of two more Players.

But Graham stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Bradley. He stared calculatingly at Celia, Blake, and Bradley, then shook his head somberly. "Sorry, Celia. Can't help you," he said regretfully.

"What!?" Jason exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Haven't got the right pin," Graham said with an indifferent shrug, his expression making it clear that he was lying. "Good luck, you two," he said to Celia and Blake, before turning to leave.

"Graham, what the hell!? You can't do this!" Jason cried out in protest, chasing after his partner. "Graham! Wait!"

"Graham?" Celia whispered, not quite comprehending the sudden change in the inscrutable blond.

"Damn it!" Blake swore, as he watched Graham and Jason disappear from sight. "And damn you, too," he added, rounding upon Bradley furiously.

The Reaper grinned. "Thrown to the wolves, eh?" he leered. "Fear not; I'll make this quick and clean."

* * *

As soon as Celia found herself alone with Bradley, the Reaper punched forward, his arm elongating and warping into a deadly claw. Celia reacted with her new pin, teleporting herself past the Reaper. She spun and lashed out with Lightning Rook, blasting the burly Reaper off his feet.

Bradley agilely rolled back onto his feet and pounced, slamming into a frozen barrier just before he could reach his victim. Then Celia's stylus turned metallic, and like a spear, it stabbed hard into the Reaper's shoulder.

Celia fired Lightning Rook again, and like a lightning rod, her stylus drew the energy towards it, sending agonizing surges of electricity through the Reaper's sturdy frame.

Bradley's teeth seemed to chatter uncontrollably. Then he was gone, and a shadowed, ghostly image of him appeared several feet away. The duplicate resembled the Reaper almost perfectly, but reminded Celia of the echo of Minamimoto she had battled the day before.

With Bradley's disappearance, Celia's stylus had clattered to the ground, reverting to its normal black color. With a thought, the young artist flipped the stylus back into the air, sketching a pile of fireworks over her new opponent.

Bradley's image leapt at her with a fierce roar, seeming exactly like the real version. Again, Celia avoided it by teleporting past him, moving all the way past her fireworks. Her enemy spun, but at that moment, her fireworks dropped to the ground and went off, shooting flares into the wolfish man's face. A lightning bolt followed through, laying the Reaper's duplicate flat as well.

Then the image was gone, and Bradley reappeared beside it. One of his arms was bleeding violently as if he had been slashed with a large, heavy blade. When he saw Celia, his expression hardened, and he lifted up two pins. A powerful stream of bubbles spewed outwards.

Celia tried to move out of range, but the ground shook at the same time, and she lost her footing. She felt a series of painful stings as the bubbles began hammering into her, and she desperately teleported herself away.

Bradley located her quickly and pounced again, but Celia had just enough time to finish her next sketch. A bow fell into her hands, crafted from silvery, sparkling wood. Elegant wings made of feathers similar to those that had shielded her during her battle against Minamimoto tipped each end of the bow.

Instead of drawing an arrow, Celia held Lightning Rook in her hand as she drew back the string. She released the string carefully, making sure not to accidentally fire her pin with it. A streak of lightning burst forward, catching the Reaper in the chest and throwing him nearly twenty feet backward.

Celia fired again, and then a third time, each shot eliciting another whimper of pain from the Reaper. Then her stylus went to work, and the stinging lightning arrows were followed by a trio of flaming meteors.

Bradley leapt back to his feet, outraged. He then disappeared again, and his duplicate reappeared. Apparently, the image had fared even more poorly against Blake than the real Bradley had done against Celia, for it was now missing an arm entirely, and several punctures went straight through the ghostly silhouette's torso.

Celia promptly loosed another wave of meteors, then brought an avalanche down upon her flat-footed foe. The image crumbled away, and Blake reappeared beside Celia, looking pumped and unharmed.

Bradley backed away with a groan, but to Celia's dismay, he braced himself quickly and crouched forward threateningly.

"I wouldn't do that, dude. Looks to me like they're kicking your ass."

Celia, Blake, and Bradley turned to see the speaker, Trevor, standing right beside where the crimson wall had been. Jason was there, too, a red key clutched in his palm. Graham was conspicuously absent, but two other Reapers were there, the two Japanese Reapers Dennis had called Tenho and BJ.

"Mind your own business," Bradley spat.

"Suit yourself," Trevor said uncaringly. "I just thought you should know that the Game Master's making his rounds. Pretty sure he said eight sigils, and to hand over the pins when the Noise were gone. If he hears about this, I doubt he'll be happy."

"Reapers aren't supposed to attack Players directly," BJ warned.

Tenho muttered something in Japanese.

"And the Game Master is not a forgiving man," BJ added, translating for his friend.

Bradley flinched and straightened. He stared at Celia and Blake for some time, as if struggling to make up his mind. Finally, he grudgingly took a pin from his pocket and tossed it to Celia. "Fine. If that mangy mutt would rather erase his little girlfriend himself, more power to him," the angry Reaper growled. With a huff, he turned and stormed away. The other three Reapers left, too, without another word.

"Celia, Blake, are you two alright?" Jason said, rushing to meet them.

"Yeah, we're fine. Thanks for coming back for us," Celia said gratefully.

"Look, I'm so sorry about Graham," Jason apologized. "He's not usually like this."

"Quit apologizing. It's not your fault your partner's a treacherous snake," Blake said. "Anyways, we've got two pins, now, plus a key pin."

"It's not really his…" Jason began helplessly, but he seemed unable to finish his sentence. He sighed. "Never mind. Come on, let's get back to the others. When we last checked in, we had four pins, and the psych felt almost complete. I bet those two pins you've got are the last ones."

* * *

"We should have said something to the others," Blake grumbled angrily, sitting down on the bench beside Celia at the edge of the parking lot.

Celia shook her head. "Don't," she advised. "It isn't worth it."

"How can you say that?" Blake fumed. "That bastard left us to die back there."

"What would be the point?" Celia said with a helpless shrug. "Sure, we could tell the others. They'd probably be upset, and we'd all get into a big argument about it, and if we have to work with Graham later, no one would trust him."

"No one _should_ trust him," Blake pointed out irritably.

"True," Celia conceded. "But we're not through with today's mission yet. We don't have time to argue with each other."

"We have plenty of time for it. You just don't like arguing," Blake accused, in a slightly harsher tone than he intended.

"You're right. I don't," Celia admitted readily. "Most of the time, everyone walks away unhappy, so why bother?"

Blake sighed and settled back in his seat. "You know, you really need to stand up for yourself more," he said, sounding less angry now, and more resigned. "Whether or not you like arguing, sometimes, you just have to stand your ground, you know? Otherwise people will just push you around or walk right over you."

Celia gave him an odd look.

"Like I did," Blake admitted sheepishly, knowing what was on her mind. "And like Graham just did."

"Perhaps," Celia said softly. "But that's just who I am, Blake. I know I'm not a very assertive person. If I can make myself heard to the people who matter to me, that's good enough. Most of the time, I'm not really sure what I want, anyways. Some say that art is a form of self-expression, but when I draw, I usually feel like I'm just rambling, like I'm trying to straighten out my own thoughts."

Blake shrugged. "I'm the last person with any right to criticize someone for not knowing what they want," he said. "I still don't know what I'll do when I'm alive again, assuming we make it."

"I don't know, either," Celia admitted.

"Well, when you finally do decide on what you want, please, don't hold back," Blake said.

Celia eyed him curiously, for there was a trace of pleading in Blake's tone. "Okay. I won't," she finally promised.

Blake nodded, satisfied, then glanced over to where the other Players were still struggling with the pins. "How long does it take them to finish that damned castle?" he grumbled.

Celia looked over to the pedestal and frowned. She had surrendered the last of Michael's pins to the others before stepping aside. At first, the others had taken turns trying to use the pins, but now, it looked like they had divided up the pins between them. "They seem to be having a hard time with those pins," Celia observed, for though the castle had begun to take shape, the Players using the pins seemed visibly frustrated with one another. "Let's go see if there's anything we can do to help."

"Might as well," Blake agreed, and the two of them rose to rejoin the others.

* * *

"How's it going?" Celia asked. The other Players looked up as she approached, then Graham quickly looked away. Celia, deciding not to comment on it, looked to Laura instead.

"Not good," Laura admitted. "We finally figured out how to use the pins, at least. All six of them have to be used together, but none of us can use more than two or three of them at once."

"Is that why you have one pin, Vivian has two, and Graham three?" Blake observed.

"We've been taking turns with them," Vivian explained. "But we're having trouble coordinating the pins. It's a bit hard to explain, but since the six pins share a psych, it's like we're all trying to use that psych at the same time."

"Think of a three-legged race, only worse," Laura said.

"Even when we do successfully add something to the castle, it never looks quite like we were hoping," added another Player, whose name Celia didn't know. "They definitely don't fit with the pieces that were already there."

"We even have a hard time removing the pieces that seem terribly out of place," Jason noted grimly.

"Would you like to try?" Laura said, offering her pin to Celia. Likewise, Vivian held out her two pins to Blake.

"Sure," Celia agreed. She took the pin and began channeling its psych, and was immediately assailed by a discordant jumble of unintelligible thoughts. Then she felt Blake and Graham activate their pins as well, and the cacophony only grew worse.

A few moments later, Celia dismissed her psych with a sigh, understanding the problem.

"See what I mean?" Vivian said with a disappointed half-smile.

"It's like we're trying to do three different things at once," Celia noted quietly. "And none of those directions agree with what we already have. I can see a pattern in Michael's work, like a thread, but I don't see where he meant for it to lead."

"Michael?" Jason asked, surprised.

"According to one of the Reapers, this castle and these six pins used to belong to Michael," Blake explained.

"But Michael wasn't just trying to build a castle," Celia murmured. "If he could use all six of these pins together, building a castle shouldn't have taken long at all. Dennis said Michael spent a long time working on this, though, and it was nowhere near finished."

"What do you think Michael was trying to do, then?" Laura asked curiously.

"Michael must have had something specific in mind," Celia said, studying the castle carefully. "The pieces he built were incredibly detailed. He was trying to create something with meaning, something that could speak to those who looked upon it. Something that could tell a story, perhaps."

"But Michael's gone," Blake reminded.

Celia nodded. "He never had a chance to finish it, and now we'll never know for sure what he intended," she agreed. "That's what our mission about. It's not just a castle; it's a monument for Michael. We have to pick up the pieces he left behind and make something coherent out of it. Something whole," she said, growing more certain of her guess with each passing second.

"Okay. So what does that mean?" Graham asked, growing impatient.

Celia didn't respond. Instead, she spent nearly another full minute examining the castle before speaking again. "Graham, would you please lend me those three pins, too?" she requested.

"You won't be able to use four of them at once," Graham warned.

"There's no harm in letting her try, is there?" Vivian pointed out.

Graham frowned. "I guess not," he conceded, reluctantly handing them over.

Celia closed her eyes and tested the psych, and found that she had no problem invoking the four pins she now held. "Let me see those other two, too, Blake," she said.

"Are you sure you can manage all six at once?" Blake asked quietly, as he passed over the two pins Vivian had given them.

In answer, Celia closed her eyes and began channeling all six fragments of the psych towards the castle. She began with the clumsy additions that the other had made, which obediently melted away. Then, once she had restored the castle to its initial state, she began carefully extending what was already there.

The missing wall formed, leaving an arched doorway warded with a heavy portcullis. Then Celia tried something more complex, creating a moat and drawbridge, and the beginnings of the main structure.

"It's actually working," Laura whispered, awed.

But Celia silently disagreed. She was able to use the six pins together, yes, but emulating Michael's work felt strangely improper. She hadn't truly known Michael, and so she found that she still could not understand what he had been striving for. Her additions outwardly appeared to belong, but somehow, the monument still felt incomplete and devoid of meaning.

"It's empty," Celia whispered, shaking her head.

"What is it?" Blake asked.

"This isn't right," Celia tried to explain. "I don't understand what Michael was trying to create. I can finish his castle, but it feels meaningless. Hollow." Even as she spoke her thoughts aloud, another possibility occurred to her.

A chorus of gasps greeted Celia as cracks appeared in all the walls Michael had built. Then the moat grew wider and wider, and the walls began to collapse.

"Wait! Celia, what are you doing!?" Laura shrieked.

Graham lunged for Celia, as if hoping to knock the pins from her hands, but Blake was quick to move into his path.

"Leave her be, Graham," Blake said, glaring dangerously at the blond.

"She's endangering our mission," Graham said, matching Blake's stare.

"If this doesn't work, I'll put it back the way it was," Celia promised serenely, without opening her eyes.

"But…" one of the other Players tried to interrupt.

"She can put it back if she wants to," Blake pointed out firmly. "She's the only one of us who can do that, and the only one of us with a real plan, too. Let her try."

"You don't even know what she's trying to do," Graham pointed out evenly, his eyes glinting challengingly.

"I know she's trying to get us through this mission. You still want that, don't you?" Blake reminded.

Meanwhile, the moat in the pedestal had expanded inwards, forming a shallow, cylindrical pool. Water rose within the pool, creating a pattern of mild waves, which promptly froze in place. Droplets formed in the center of the pool, rising up and breaking through the surface, climbing skyward. As they rose higher and higher, they began to spread and take shape, forming the top of a large, leafless tree. Large branches formed and split into smaller ones as the tree continued to pull itself free of the water.

Snowflakes began appearing just above the tree, sprinkling downwards until the sculpture began to resemble the interior of a snow globe. A gaping hollow opened in the front of a tree, and its knotted branches gradually became more defined. Some of the snow clung to the tree's branches, crystallizing into tiny clear leaves.

When Celia finally ended her psych, the tree looked ancient and full of life, despite being made of ice. The peaceful snowfall continued, lending the scene a sense of both tranquility and finality. The waters around its base remained impossibly and timelessly frozen, and it seemed to be calling to everyone who looked upon it, beckoning them to their fates.

Celia reached into the tree's hollow, three of the pins held in each hand. There, she set the six pins down, stacking them neatly. She then backed away from the monument, knowing that her work was finished.

For a long while, no one spoke. The Players could only stare at the tree in wonder and confusion. Nothing of the castle Michael had started remained.

Finally, Graham looked down at his palm, where his timer was still ticking. "Now what?" he asked.

"Should I change it back?" Celia offered quietly. But even as she spoke, the stack of pins inside the tree's hollow collapsed, merging into one. The new pin then floated out, seemingly of its own accord, and expanded outwards, eventually growing to the same size as the monument itself.

At first, the new pin resembled a large Player pin almost exactly. Then it slowly began to change, starting with the plain gray backdrop, which darkened and began to mimic the persistent snowfall, resembling a peaceful, snowy knight. The snowflake began to change next, its bright silver hue adopting a slight bluish tinge.

Then the monument itself seemed to melt into the pin, becoming two dimensional. The background remained animated, with the snowfall continuing, and the large snowflake twirling peacefully and gradually reshaping itself into new patterns. Elegant golden letters appeared over the tree, as if drawn by an invisible hand.

Winter's Hollow.

"Well done. Mission complete," Faith said quietly, announcing his presence for the first time.

The Players turned to find the Game Master standing behind them, flanked by ten of his Reapers. Faith stepped forward, and the Players in his path instinctively moved aside, leaving his approach clear.

"Interesting," Faith mused. "This isn't really what I had in mind, but…"

"What did you have in mind, then?" Graham interrupted sourly.

"I'm not really sure," Faith admitted readily. "To be honest, I wasn't too impressed with what Ariel started. This, on the other hand… this will do."

"Faith…" Celia whispered, finding her voice at last.

"One more day," Faith said cheerfully, and though it sounded like he was speaking to the group as a whole, Celia felt as if his words were aimed directly at her. "Just one more day. One more mission."

Faith gestured briefly towards the large pin, which promptly shrank and floated towards his waiting hand. Then he turned and began striding away, his Reapers falling in behind him.

"Faith, wait!" Celia called desperately.

But Faith didn't stop, or even slow, and Celia's world began fading to black once again as the sixth day came to an end.

* * *

 _Emptiness strikes you out of nowhere,_

 _Emptiness, don't need any heaven,_

 _Feel the fire that's burning out of me,_

 _Emptiness drives you into silence,_

 _Emptiness makes me want to fly,_

 _Free the darkness that's falling down right here…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Emptiness And. At least, they're my best guess at the lyrics from Emptiness And. The song is a little bit garbled.**


	9. Day Seven: Hope's Nocturne

~ **Day Seven ~**

 **Hope's Nocturne**

* * *

 _Forget me not,_

 _You're the only one,_

 _I miss your heart every day and night…_

* * *

It was cold.

That was the first thing Celia noticed upon coming awake. The ground felt as if it had been frozen over. The air around her had become frigid, and each breath she took stung at her lungs.

At first, Celia thought she must have been dreaming. Then a shiver ran through her, feeling all too real for it to be a dream. Mustering her strength, she forced herself to open her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. Almost immediately, she found herself blinded by the light. When her eyes finally adjusted, she let out a soft gasp.

Despite the persistent heavy snowfall, the sky was impossibly clear, and sunlight glinted beautifully off a blanket of pure, white snow. A similar white dusting covered all the nearby buildings, including the Space Needle, which stood tall behind her. The carefully maintained verdant lawns surrounding the famous tower were fully hidden from sight, save for a gap beside each of the Players where they had been lying down moments earlier. The sun had already moved beyond its zenith.

Just like the day before, all the Players had started out together. Celia quickly spotted every one of the Players she had remembered seeing the day before. It looked as if they had all awakened at the same time. Like Celia, most were gaping at the seemingly impossible weather.

"Good morning, Celia," Blake said, moving to her side.

"M-Morning," Celia said, her teeth chattering slightly from the cold. Just then, she spotted a pedestrian from the Realground walking past them, dressed in a t-shirt and short skirt.

"This snowstorm is only in the Underground," Blake guessed.

"Looks like," Celia agreed quietly, taking a deep breath to acclimate herself to the relentless chill.

She heard her phone buzzing and reached for it automatically, her movements perfectly mirroring those of the other Players.

* * *

 _Erase the Game Master, or weather the storm until your timers expire. If you wish to find me, follow the Sound north. You have 180 minutes. Best of luck to you all._

 _\- The Game Master_

* * *

"Dennis was right," Blake said, looking immensely relieved.

"Yeah, he was," Celia agreed without much enthusiasm.

Blake looked at her strangely. "I thought you'd be happy. We don't have to fight against Faith. Hell, if he's waiting for us to come to him, we won't even have to see him again until the Game is over. Isn't it great?"

"I… I guess," Celia murmured.

Blake looked around for the other Players. Some of them had started jogging, keeping themselves active in hopes of staying warm. Others had begun meandering around the area aimlessly. "I think Laura and Vivian have the right idea," Blake said, nodding towards where the two women were starting down a nearby street. "They're looking for stores we can enter. That'll be a great way to stay warm for a bit, and maybe find some more suitable clothes."

As he spoke, he glanced towards Celia, noticing that her clothing appeared particularly worse for the wear from all her battles throughout the week.

"Come on, Celia," Blake said bracingly, when his partner remained silent. "Let's go shopping or something. Or maybe we can go by the coffee shop and find something hot to drink."

Celia shook her head. "Blake, I want to see him," she said, in barely more than a whisper.

When her words finally sank in, Blake's eyes went wide with horror. "Have you gone mad?" he asked incredulously.

"I don't want to fight him," Celia clarified quickly. "I just… I need to talk to him."

"And what if he won't talk to you? He didn't stop to talk to you yesterday, or the day before that," Blake pointed out. "What if he attacks you?"

"He won't attack me," Celia said, sounding certain. "He won't," she then said again quietly, as if trying to reassure herself.

Blake shot Celia a helpless look. He wanted to argue, but she seemed so painfully fragile at that moment that he could not find it in himself to disagree aloud. "Okay," he said at last. "I understand. You must have a lot to ask him, after all. But, do you really have to talk to him right now? He's still our enemy for today, whether or not he wants to be. Can't you just wait three hours for the mission to be over?"

"What happens when the mission is over, Blake?" Celia asked softly.

"What do you mean what happens? Today's the last mission, Celia. When it's over, we win. We get to live again," Blake said.

"And how does that work?" Celia asked. "Do we just wake up, as if we've been asleep this entire time? What if we've been buried? Or cremated?"

Blake fell silent.

"Do we go back to before we died, as if none of this had ever happened?" Celia went on. "If so, would we remember anything that's happened here?"

"That can't be how it works," Blake realized. "If it was, we would have heard of the Reapers' Game and the Underground long ago. Even if it seems like a dream at first, or just plain crazy, enough people would have made it through by now for them to put the truth together."

"Then, what does it mean to live again if we don't remember?" Celia said, coming to her true fear at last. "I didn't know who Faith was. I still don't know, only now, at least I know I don't know. I need to know who he is, Blake. I need to know, and if we wait until after the Game is over, I might never get the chance to find out."

Blake grimaced. "It might be worse than that, actually," he realized. "If we don't remember any of this, what's to keep things from playing out the same way again? What's going to keep me from finding you and getting us both killed again?"

Celia found that that possibility didn't really alarm her. Perhaps she had simply grown accustomed to the idea of being dead, but the thought of not existing no longer really scared her. "I have to talk to him, Blake. I need to know what lies ahead of us," Celia said. She took a deep breath. "Blake, we're still partners. That means I don't have any right to decide for the both of us. I know you're trying to keep me alive, and that you've been trying to keep me alive almost since the beginning of the Game. If you absolutely want to stay, I'll stay here with you."

"Celia…" Blake whispered.

"But," Celia continued. "Yesterday, you told me not to hold back when I finally knew what I wanted. At least for now, I know what I want. I want to know who Faith really is, and what awaits us after the Game. That's even more important to me than making it through the Game and living again."

"Didn't you say you still trusted him?" Blake asked.

Celia wavered indecisively. "Y-Yes," she admitted. "I did say that. And I do still trust him, too. Even though we didn't know each other that long, I felt like he understood me better than anyone else I've ever known. Even so, he isn't me, and as much as I want to, I can't just leave him to decide what's best for me. Not when I haven't even decided upon that for myself."

Blake took a deep breath, then nodded. "Okay. Let's go find him, Celia," he finally agreed. "But where do we begin?"

In answer, Celia looked west, far past the Space Needle, where unruly rows of buildings blocked their view of Puget Sound, the large ocean inlet which Seattle rested beside.

* * *

As soon as the sound was in sight, Celia turned and led the way north, moving roughly parallel to the shores. The sun was already beginning to set, reminding her that they had woken rather later than usual, but a full two and a half hours remained on their timers.

The snowstorm seemed to intensify, and the winds began howling softly as the temperature dipped even further. The banks of snow grew thicker only to impede the Players, for they could see the living people of the Realground going about their sunny and warm day in typical summer clothing, clearly still unaffected by the unnatural weather. The cold no longer bothered Celia, either, and she forged on undaunted by the snow.

Then the baying of hounds rang out, echoing between the nearby buildings. When Celia and Blake saw that none of those in the Realground had noticed the raucous howling, they looked around uneasily, knowing what was to come.

Six Trance Hounds shot around the corner behind them. The Noise caught up quickly and surrounded the two Players, then began prowling around menacingly until their master arrived a few seconds later.

There was no sign of cruel playfulness in Bradley's expression this time. He simply looked angry. "Come, Players. Let us finish what we began," he growled.

"Still salty about yesterday, huh?" Blake said, grinning and showing no sign of any fear.

Bradley ignored Blake and glared at Celia. "Your dear Game Master is staying put today. He won't be along in time to save you this time. You're mine," he spat.

"I thought you said he wanted to erase me himself," Celia said mildly, no longer fazed by the Reaper's cruel remarks and brash demeanor. "Well, if Faith isn't coming to keep us from erasing you, I won't complain."

"You? Erase me?" Bradley scoffed. "You are prey, nothing more! Learn your place!"

Bradley's wings flexed and stretched. Blake swirls oozed up through the snow all around the Reaper, creeping up his legs and merging into his flesh. His face contorted, and his already-wolfish features became more pronounced as his nose elongated into a snout and his eyes narrowed, becoming distinctly feral. His legs dissolved into tattooed strips of Noise, and he fell to all fours and loosed a soul-piercing howl.

"Lupus Cantus. Dolphus's Noise form. The savage alpha wolf, who prizes strength above all else. Keep your distance," Michael's voice rang out serenely in Celia's mind.

~ LINEREAK ~

Heeding Michael's warning, Celia immediately took to the skies, her own wings spreading wide and carrying her easily over Lupus Cantus's vicious lunge. She spun in midair, blasting the ferocious Noise with a bolt of lightning.

Lupus Cantus hardly even flinched, and though his landing had been slightly thrown off, he recovered immediately, turning to pounce again. Celia remained one step ahead of him, drifting just out of his reach and striking him with a second lightning bolt. Then, sensing that her wings were about to fade, she lowered herself to the ground and began concentrating on her stylus.

The wolf-like Noise became little more than a blur as he charged again, but even that fraction of a second was enough for Celia's purposes. Just before the Noise's claws could strike her, she teleported herself past him. Lupus Cantus tried to turn as he land, only to find himself standing within a ring of fire. The snow below melted and quickly refroze into a sheet of ice, and the Noise slid through the flames, his fur igniting in the process.

Celia's silvery bow reappeared before her, and she fired away, sending arrow after arrow of pure lightning slamming into her foe. Lupus Cantus howled in agony as the flames gnawed hungrily at his fur and streaks of lightning continued drilling into him. He tried to pounce, only to find a solid brick wall between him and his intended prey.

The Noise crashed through the wall, and Celia only barely managed to leap aside, startled. Thankfully, her attacker was thrashing wildly and barely in control of his own movements. By the time Lupus Cantus had reoriented himself, Celia was floating high above him once more, suspended by her chitinous wings.

Lupus Cantus disappeared, to be replaced by a shadowy image of himself.

Celia smiled devilishly, an idea occurring to her. Leo Cantus, with his superhuman reflexes and his ability to teleport, had been too fast for her to catch fully by surprise, but though Bradley in his Noise form also moved with inhuman speed, his movements seemed wild and reckless. She sent her stylus past the Noise and began drawing.

Predictably, the shadowy image of Lupus Cantus pounced again. Celia teleported herself right onto her drawing, deliberately initiating the psych prematurely so that her opponent could recover quickly. The ghostly Noise spun and immediately dove at her again, in the opposite direction.

The ground beneath Celia fell away. She began falling into her own summoned chasm, drawing furiously as Lupus Cantus's image toppled in after her. A moment later, she soared safely out of the chasm, and her foe tumbled fast her, sinking deep into the earth.

* * *

Lupus Cantus reappeared, but so did Blake and the other nearby pedestrians, obliviously minding their own business in the Realground. "Had enough?" Celia asked with a triumphant smile, realizing that Bradley must have dismissed his copy and disengaged from their battle in order to keep from being erased.

"Come on, Reaper. I was just getting started," Blake added, unscathed and apparently sharing Celia's confidence. "What sort of pack leader runs from his prey, anyways?"

Lupus Cantus snarled and started forth once more.

"The wise predator knows when he's bitten off more than he could chew," Trevor's voice cut in.

Celia, Blake, and Lupus Cantus looked up to find the small, brash Reaper watching in amusement from the nearest rooftop.

"I know you were hoping to claim these kills for yourself, Brad, but please, open your eyes. Keep this up and they really will erase you," Trevor noted, feigning disinterest.

"Mind your own business," Lupus Cantus roared, his voice sounding like Bradley's with a noticeable guttural echo.

"Ah, but this is my business," Trevor chided. "If you're willing to share your catch, your hunt may still be salvaged."

Lupus Cantus looked at Trevor appraisingly. Then his lips curled into a grin, baring his fangs. "So be it. The wolf and eagle shall hunt together," he growled eagerly.

"You're helping him!? What the hell is wrong with you Reapers?" Blake fumed.

"I suppose it's no use reminding you that attacking us is against the rules," Celia sighed.

"Oh, I know," Trevor reassured her. "But whose rules are they, anyways? Michael's?" The Reaper grinned. "Old Michael's gone, and no one really knew why he got to make the rules, anyways. The Conductor's the one in charge now. His word is all we've got now, even if he's insane. That word is to make you disappear."

"What about the Game Master?" Celia challenged. "What does he have to say about this?"

Trevor grinned. "The Game Master serves the Conductor too," he explained. "Don't you understand? The Conductor's role is to lead the Reapers. The Game Master is the Conductor's representative in this game, nothing more."

Celia stared at the cocky Reaper, trying to hide her growing horror. "No," she finally said, her voice trembling. "No. You're lying."

"Believe what you wish," Trevor said indifferently. "You may as well enjoy your last moments." His spiky, almost skeletal black wings spread outwards, and layers of feathers began appearing in a neat shingled pattern. The feathers continue spreading, covering most of his body, and the back of his shirt drooped down, twisting as they took on Noise-like patterns and formed a set of elegant tail feathers, too. Taking on the form of a giant Noise eagle, the Reaper soared up into the sky.

"Aquila Cantus. Nguyen's Noise form. A clever and merciless predator who is quick to exploit any apparent weaknesses. Keep your guard up," came the voice in Celia's head.

"I'll handle the girl. You take care of the other one," Aquila Cantus instructed.

"What!? She's the one the Conductor's after! She's mine!" Lupus Cantus whined.

Aquila Cantus laughed. "Don't be a fool. Unless you've learned to fly, your next fall will be your last."

Faced with that truth, Lupus Cantus grudgingly conceded the point. He and Blake disappeared, leaving Celia alone with her newest foe.

* * *

"Stand still, and I'll make this quick," Aquila Cantus offered. That was the only warning he offered before diving at Celia, his razor-sharp beak stretched wide. The young artist looked up at him despairingly, remaining motionless otherwise.

But in truth, Celia had already put the Reaper's last biting remark towards her out of mind. She carefully maintained her defeated, resigned look until the last possible second, luring the would-be hunter close.

Then she was gone, and a vicious claw trap snapped up where she stood, biting deep into Noise's wing. Celia reappeared behind the Noise as he let out a shrill, pained shriek, and her bow fell into her waiting hands. The elegant weapon thrummed rapidly as bolt after bolt of lightning sailed forward, ripping into Aquila Cantus and scorching his feathers.

Aquila Cantus pulled himself away from the ground, dragging the trap with him, which faded away soon after. He swiveled about to glare at Celia. "Why struggle? You're only making this worse for yourself," he hissed, trying to sound dominant.

Celia wasn't impressed; the pronounced, jagged wound in Aquila Cantus's wing had left his flight visibly unsteady. As the Noise swooped in to strike again, Celia teleported herself straight up, twisting as she felt and landing on his back. Before the eagle-like creature could react, Celia's stylus soared to her and quickly sketched a fiery orb, which promptly materialized and exploded.

The explosion threw Celia from Aquila Cantus's back, and as she began to fall, she realized that perhaps she had been a bit overzealous. Her psych had set her own clothing aflame, too, but she hardly had time to attend to that, and focused instead on giving herself wings again. After righting herself, her stylus twirled above her, creating a warm sphere of light that melted the descending snowflakes into a soft, sprinkling rainfall.

Meanwhile, Aquila Cantus had crashed straight into the snow. The Noise pulled himself back up, looking ragged and torn. Nevertheless, he glared up at Celia defiantly and spread his wings again.

"Knight to F6," a commanding voice boomed.

Then two more Noise appeared. The posh, royal form of Rex Cantus appeared just below Celia, and a black Noise resembling a knight on horseback appeared beside him.

Though it was hard to tell with his birdlike face, Aquila Cantus looked taken aback by the third Reaper's sudden arrival. He scrambled backward warily. "What are you doing here, Marcus?" he asked.

"I am here to uphold the rules of the Game," Rex Cantus answered calmly.

"The rules?" Aquila scoffed derisively. "This isn't one of your precious little board games, Marcus. Only a fool would stand against the Conductor's wishes."

"You are blind to the board around you, and the true shape of the pieces at your side," Rex Cantus proclaimed. "Trevor Nguyen, you and your partner, Bradley Dolphus, have deliberately attacked a Player without provocation. There is only one sentence appropriate for such a crime. I, Marcus Wilson, will hereby erase you in accordance with the edicts of the Reapers' Game."

"Not on your best day," Aquila Cantus growled. He could not fly again, for Celia's last attack had crippled his wings. Instead, he thrust his torn wings forward, and a swarm of feathers shot forward like darts.

"King to C8. Castle," Rex Cantus declared. He disappeared, reappearing a fair distance to his right, and a black castle-like Noise appeared on his left, between him and Celia. A barrier former around Celia, absorbing Aquila Cantus's psych.

"Knight to D5."

The Classical Knight advanced. Aquila Cantus tried to back away, but was too slow to escape the reach of the horseman's deadly lance.

"Pawn to D2. Erase him," Rex Cantus announced.

Celia continued watching expectantly, but no additional Noise appeared. When she finally understood Rex Cantus's meaning, she gave her unexpected ally a defiant look. "I am not your pawn," she said irritably.

"You are, if only for now," Rex Cantus said. "Erase him, Miss Winter, and take your place at the end of the board."

Feeling miffed, Celia turned her back on Rex Cantus. She soared down to stand before Trevor, who had reverted to his humanoid shape.

Trevor looked up at her pitifully, fear shining out of his eyes.

"Get out of here, Trevor," Celia ordered. "Leave Blake and me alone."

Surprised by Celia's unexpected mercy, Trevor could only stare at her in disbelief for several seconds. Then he leapt to his feet and turned to flee.

He had only taken a few steps before stiffening. His relieved expression became one of absolute horror as he began to unravel, his form losing color as shreds of static peeled away and faded into nonexistence.

"What did you do!?" Celia shrieked, rounding on Rex Cantus. The Noise was gone, though, replaced by Marcus Wilson, the Reaper.

"To him? Nothing," Marcus replied. "Trevor formed a pact for this battle, and it seems your partner was less forgiving than you were. Reapers, like Players, normally linger a short while after their partner is erased, but Noise shared across zones dissipates immediately. The loss proved too great for Trevor to endure."

Celia swallowed uncomfortably and turned to Blake. The teen wore a determined look, and had his pi pin clutched tightly in his hand. "They deserved to be erased," Blake answered, seeming utterly unrepentant.

Overwhelmed by how callous both Blake and Marcus appeared to be, Celia couldn't find the heart to argue.

Marcus noticed her despairing look, and seemed to understand her dilemma at once. "That is the way of the Reapers' Game, Miss Winter," he said apologetically. "Now go. You are only one turn away from reaching the end of the board, where the Game Master awaits you. What you become then will be up to you."

Celia looked away, avoiding his gaze. She tried to avoid looking at her partner, too. With more questions hanging over her than ever before, she wordlessly resumed her trek north, now dreading what awaited her.

* * *

With only an hour left on their timers, Celia and Blake came across a waterway. Just a little further was a marina laden with countless small vessels, silhouetted against the setting sun. Though she couldn't quite explain it to herself, somehow, Celia knew they were in the right place.

"This way," Celia said suddenly, her first words since they left Marcus Wilson behind. She led the way through a quiet, empty park, and soon, she and Blake could see someone standing at the water's edge.

But two others were already there, approaching the lone man who Celia knew to be Faith.

"Game Master!" Graham called. "Prepare yourself!" He and Jason drew their pins.

"I have been prepared for some time now," Faith replied calmly, turning to face the two Players.

"No! Wait!" Celia cried, racing to catch up with them.

At the sound of her voice, Graham and Jason gave pause, turning and watching as Celia ran towards the.

"Please," she pleaded, when at last she reached the other two Players. "We don't have to erase him. We can finish our mission without a fight."

Graham and Jason exchanged knowing glances. Then Graham turned back to face the Game Master. "I'm sorry, Celia," Graham apologized sincerely. "I truly am, for what I tried to do to yesterday, and for what Jason and I must do now. I know the Game Master is your friend, but we have to face him. Completing the mission isn't all that matters here; there's more at stake than you realize."

"Then tell me," Celia insisted. "What's going on here, Graham? What do you know that I don't?"

When neither Graham nor Jason answered, Celia turned her pleading look to Faith instead, begging her friend to give her the answers she so desperately needed to hear.

Faith smiled warmly. "I'm sorry, Celia. I'd love to talk, but these gentlemen did find me first. Let me settle my business with them, alright?" he offered.

"When our business is settled, you'll be in no shape to talk to her," Graham warned. "Why don't you say your goodbyes to her now?"

If Faith had been at all unsettled by Graham's threat, he did not show it. "Please, Mr. Smith. Spare me your threats. If your heart is absolutely set on fighting me, then let us begin without further delay," he said.

"No, wait!" Celia cried. But neither Graham nor Jason listened this time. The two Players became semi-translucent as they sprang forward, and Graham immediately tossed a flurry of fireballs at the Game Master.

But Faith was already moving, his shadow stretching and tearing away from him to become a darkened silhouette of himself. Both he and his image grew semi-translucent, too. Graham fired off more flaming spheres at the real Faith, while Jason launched a crackling projectile of his own towards Faith's shadowy image.

Barriers of frozen, hexagonal tiles appeared around both copies of Faith, easily absorbing all of Graham and Jason's projectiles thrown his way. Then the real Faith burst through one of the barriers, quickly closing the distance between him and Graham.

Graham backed away in surprised, creating a molten ball of stone that rolled forward, leaving a trail of melted snow in its wake. Faith agilely leapt over the boulder, somersaulting over the blond while unleashing a cloud of freezing mist downward. Graham tried to dive aside, but was too late, tripping over his own frozen legs instead with a gasp of pain.

Jason found himself in similarly dire straits. When the barrier around Faith's image fell, he had fired again, but his target simply braced himself, accepting the hit and countering with a sphere of ice. The frozen projectile slammed into Jason's chest, exploding into hundreds of fragments. Jason crumpled backwards from the force of the blow, collapsing into the snow.

"Damn," Blake said, marveling at the Game Master's fluid and graceful movements. "He's unreal. It's like he came straight out of the matrix movies or something."

Celia, finding herself speechless and unable to tear her gaze away from the horrifying spectacle, did not answer. Part of her remained anxious for her friend's wellbeing, but another part of her already understood that Faith was in no real danger.

Determined to fight until the end, Graham fired his next psych at his own feet, burning himself badly as he melted himself free of the ice. Unfortunately, Faith was upon him as soon as he was free. The powerful Game Master clasped his hand around the unfortunate Player's throat. Another freezing cloud poured forth from Faith's hand, silhouetting Graham and freezing him solid from head to toe.

Faith casually tossed Graham to the ground. His image faded away as the two Players he faced became solid once more. "It's over," he declared in a quiet, but firm tone.

"Graham!" Jason cried, running to his friend and partner's side.

But Faith got there first, and Jason stopped in his tracks as the Game Master knelt down at Graham's side. "You will not reconsider?" Faith asked sorrowfully. He gestured, and the ice covering Graham's face melted away.

"G-Go to hell," Graham snarled.

Faith shook his head sadly. "You still do not understand, do you? You know what your entry fee was for your first Reapers' Game. Your fee this week was the same, and still you have not learned better. You tried to trick the other Players in hopes of being the one to complete the third mission. Yesterday, you unilaterally decided to betray Players who trusted you, leaving them to be erased. You should have realized, Mr. Smith. This is not who you are."

"I am what your game has made me," Graham hissed.

"You are broken," Faith lamented. "Your passion was taken from you. No longer are you fueled by a burning desire to make a difference in the world. You are a caricature of your former self, a ruthless and conniving creature who has shelved humility only to place himself in an unwinnable situation. Can you appreciate now why you did not win?"

"This is not who I am!" Graham argued, his voice growing weak.

"No. This is who you were destined to become," Faith said. "Passions cool, Mr. Smith. One day, your desires would have smoldered. What, then, would have carried you onwards through the challenges life affords you? This was your chance to show us that you could have reignited yourself. Look at yourself, Mr. Smith. Can you live with who you have become?"

Graham's anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by despair.

"You know the truth," Faith went on. "You are not proud of what you have done."

"Do it, then," Graham said, a bit of fight reappearing in his eyes. "Erase me. I won't be a Reaper. I won't be like you, offering false promises and shredding hopes and dreams."

"Very well," Faith agreed. "Farewell, Mr. Smith. May you know peace forevermore."

"No, wait!" Celia and Jason cried out together.

But they were too late. Faith punched downward, slamming one fist through Graham's frozen torso.

Graham's expression became one of shock. Then he was gone.

Faith stood, but did not turn to meet Celia's gaze. "You have seven minutes, Mr. Reed," he said, his words directed at Jason. "That is how long a Player can linger after his partner is erased. Normally, your fate would be sealed, but throughout your time in the Underground, you have demonstrated time and time again that even lacking your natural conviction and surety, you can find yourself a righteous path to tread. If you've reconsidered your prior decision, I can and will save you. Talk to your friends if you like, and come to me when you've made your choice."

With that, Faith turned and walked back up to the edge of the sound, watching as the tranquil waves splashed on by.

* * *

Strangely, Celia did not feel an urge to go straight to Faith. Instead, she looked towards Jason, who seemed to be petrified. "Jason, what's going on?" she asked softly.

"Faith mentioned something about another game. This isn't your first Reapers' Game, is it?" Blake asked.

Jason shook his head stiffly, and there was a distant look in his eyes, as if he was entirely lost. "Graham and I have played the Game before," he admitted.

"What happens after the game, Jason?" Celia asked, fearing the answer.

"Before the Game begins, the Composer, whoever – or whatever – is in charge of the Game, decides upon a number of Players who may live again," Jason explained. "Throughout the Game, the Reapers watch us and score us. At the end of the Game, if any Players still remain, some of them are offered a new chance at life. The rest have to choose between erasure, playing the Game again, and becoming Reapers themselves."

Celia's throat went dry, and she felt a horrid knot in her stomach.

"Last week, the Composer decided that only one Player would get to live again," Jason went on. "Graham and I both decided to play again. This time, Graham was determined to be the winner. He sent you two to battle the Noise on the third day, because he wanted to be the one to claim two of the three flags from the mission. Yesterday, when he learned that Celia was once the Game Master's friend, he became afraid that the Game's ruling would be biased in her favor. That's why he tried to let that Reaper erase you."

"And today, he decided you two had to be the ones to erase Faith," Blake reasoned.

Jason nodded. "Last week, the mission offered us a similar choice. Michael was Game Master that week. No one even tried to face him. Today, Graham decided the best way to ensure that we'd be declared winners was to find and erase the Game Master," he said.

"What will you do now?" Blake asked.

"I can't let myself be erased," Jason said reluctantly. "My parents died a few years back, leaving my little sister and me on our own. I was all she had left. I have to go back to her, even if… even if it means becoming a Reaper." He took a deep breath, then nodded, his hesitation leaving him. "I'm ready," he declared.

With that, Jason, Celia, and Blake silently made their way to Faith's side.

* * *

"Make me a Reaper," Jason said bluntly, as soon as they reached Faith.

"Your mind's made up?" Faith asked.

"It is," Jason confirmed, sounding determined.

Faith reached into his pocket, retrieving a red pin bearing a design that resembled an infernal, doglike creature. "Tin Pin Ifrit," he explained. "Inspired by a divine beast with dominion over flame. The pin's psych meshes remarkably well with your late partner."

The pin flashed.

"I have just bound your late partner's lingering Soul to this pin," Faith explained. "Forge a pact with it, and though you will not be able to defend yourself from Noise, you will not fade away, either. Keep yourself safe until the end of the Game, and you will be returned to the Hall of Adjudication."

"You bound Graham to this pin?" Jason asked, horrified.

"It's… complicated," Faith said. "His identity was lost when he was erased. In time, his patterns would have faded. I have preserved them for now, by forging them into Noise. Once you become a Reaper, you may release him for good, if that is what you desire. You may also prefer to keep the pin, with which you may be able to bring forth the fire Noise, Ignis Canor."

Jason nodded, and though he still looked uncomfortable with the thought, he focused on the pin. "It's done," he said.

"Then go," Faith instructed. "Your mission is nearly at its end. Stay warm."

"Thank you," Jason said. He turned to Celia and Blake. "Good luck," he offered, before leaving.

* * *

"Hello, Faith," Celia said in a brittle tone, walking up to the Game Master's side as soon as Jason was out of earshot.

"Hello, Celia," Faith greeted calmly. "I had a feeling I'd be seeing you today."

"You did promise we'd see each other soon," Celia reminded.

"I did, didn't I?" Faith said. "I'm sorry we couldn't talk sooner. It's been a busy week." He turned to meet her gaze.

"Paperwork again?" Celia asked with a sad, teasing smile.

"I wish," Faith said with a chuckle. "Fieldwork is more tiring than I remember. It doesn't help that Minamimoto has been determined to make this week a living hell for me."

"One of the Reapers told us that you work for him," Celia said, though her doubtful tone didn't seem accusing in the slightest.

"That's the normal order of things. The Conductor represents the Composer's interests, commanding the other Reapers. The Game Master, in turn, represents the Conductor in the Reapers' Game," Faith explained. "But this game has been anything but normal, and I do not answer to Minamimoto."

"That's what I thought," Celia said quietly.

"Speaking of our resident math fetishist," Faith continued. "Thank you, Celia. I wouldn't have been able to defeat Minamimoto's echo without you. Asking you Players to face the Taboo Noise itself was already my last resort. When I learned of Michael's erasure, I feared I had already lost. You proved to be the best partner I could have asked for. You had no reason to reciprocate my trust, but you did anyways. You even found yourself a Harmonizer pin somewhere along the way."

"I didn't know it was you at the time," Celia reminded.

"But you did," Faith corrected. "You knew, from the moment we forged our pact. Your presence was keenly familiar to me. My presence must have felt the same to you. You knew, but you knew, too, that you did not have time to unravel the mystery, so you maintained the illusion yourself for my sake. So, thank you."

At first, Celia wasn't sure what to say. Then she remembered her conversation with Jason, and what had happened with Graham. "Faith, is what Jason said true?" she blurted. "Jason said that not everyone who survives the Game gets to live again. He said that we're being scored, and that the Players who don't win have to play again or become Reapers."

"It's true," Faith confirmed.

"Then that's what happened to you," Blake reasoned, finally speaking up. "You died, played the Game, and lost. Instead of disappearing or playing the Game again, you became a Reaper. You're trapped, too. More trapped, even, since at least Celia and I still have our chance to win."

"No," Celia corrected. "Faith isn't trapped. I don't know if he can leave or not, but he's right where he wants to be."

"How did you know?" Faith asked, eyeing her curiously.

"Because I know you. I understand you," Celia said. "I saw the look in your eyes when you were talking with Graham. You're not like the other Reapers, Faith. Some of the Reapers really are trapped, like Dennis, or like Jason will be. They don't want to be what they are, but they didn't have a choice. Other Reapers, like Bradley, are happy with the power over others that being a Reaper gives them. Maybe they started out like Dennis and Jason, or maybe that's how they always were."

"So which kind of Reaper am I?" Faith asked.

"Neither," Celia replied. "You aren't here for yourself. You don't care about power or prestige, but you weren't forced to become a Reaper, either. You're here for the Underground itself, and for the Reapers' Game. You truly believe in what you do, that it's something important and worth doing."

"Well, you've found me out," Faith said, smiling wistfully.

"But you're wrong, Faith," Celia said firmly. "You don't have the right to decide whether or not someone deserves to die."

"I do not," Faith agreed mildly. "No one does. Celia, do you remember when I visited you on the second day of this game? I may have pretended not to see you, but my words were genuine. I truly did regret what I did to your partner. I still do, in fact."

"Do you regret what you did to Graham, too?" Blake demanded angrily. "Do you regret smashing him into millions of pieces, then taking those pieces and using them to turn Jason into a Reaper, too?"

"I regret having to do what I did, but I do not regret my actions themselves," Faith said, carefully measuring his words.

"More mind games and riddles," Blake spat. "You're full of shit."

"I did not expect you to understand, Mr. Daniels," Faith said indifferently.

"What about me?" Celia asked, now with a noticeable edge to her voice. "Did you expect me to understand? Because I don't, Faith. I don't understand how you can keep believing in this game, how you can take part in stealing people's dreams from them and abandoning them to fade away."

Faith sighed. "I know you don't," he said heavily. "I wish I could explain it all to you right now, but I can't. But… after this game, if you are still willing to listen, I will try," he promised.

Celia looked into Faith's eyes, and for the first time, she found him entirely inscrutable. "Alright. After this game, I'll listen to whatever you have to say," she promised. "But there's something else I need to ask you, first. Graham believed that his best chance to live again was to erase you. Was he right?"

Faith grimaced. "Graham Smith erasing me was never a possibility," he replied.

"But let's say he was able to," Blake said. "Or, since he's gone and the question's already moot, say Celia and I were to erase you. Would that be enough for Celia to live again, and to get her out of this hell you call home?"

"You two would certainly put up a better fight than Graham Smith and his partner did," Faith remarked. "Unfortunately, by the Composer's decree, this week's game will allow only a single winner. I can tell you, with absolute confidence, that Celia will not be that winner. However, should Celia erase me, things would certainly be… interesting."

"Interesting?" Celia asked sharply. "After all the time you spent pretending to be my friend, you think it would be interesting to make me erase you?"

"I was never pretending," Faith answered mildly.

Celia winced, immediately regretting her words, for in Faith's eyes she saw the same confusion, frustration, and pain she herself was feeling.

"That's enough, Faith," Blake said, speaking up before Celia could apologize. "Don't you think you've screwed with her enough?"

"Blake…" Celia tried to interrupt.

But her partner brushed her aside and readied his pins. "Alright then, Faith. We'll face you. Maybe I'll get to kill you this time, or maybe you'll get to erase us. We'll see how interesting you find it then," Blake declared.

"Wait! No!" Celia protested.

Faith sighed. "I'm sorry, C," he apologized. He moved to stand about twenty paces away from Celia and Blake, then turned to face them. "It will bring me no pleasure to erase you or your partner, Mr. Daniels," he said emotionlessly. "Nevertheless, as Game Master, I accept your challenge."

A large Noise sigil appeared at the Game Master's feet, and a column of purifying light shined down upon him, leaving him barely visible. Tendrils of Noise, black, red, white, and gold, began creeping upwards from the ground, absorbing the light as they melded into their master.

Then the light itself was consumed, as was the Noise sigil upon the ground. The Game Master remained humanoid, but it looked as if two changes had come over him at once, splitting him down the middle.

His left side had grown darker, his black trench coat gleaming and mysteriously drawing in light from around it, casting his immediate vicinity into darkness. Deep scarlet markings lined the edges of his coat. His skin had become coal-black, and his left eye glowed red, its pupil disappearing. A black spiky Reaper's wing protruded from his back, stretching to that side, crackling with crimson lightning.

His right half seemed precisely the opposite. His coat had transformed into an elegant white robe, lined with golden markings. The robe seemed to be emitting its own light, appearing vividly illuminated from every angle, glowing faintly even as the dimming sun sank beneath the distant horizon. Half of a hood had appeared, completely obscuring the right half of his face, and a beautiful wing of the purest white feathers, resembling to those of a dove, extended to the right.

Celia and Blake watched motionlessly as the Noise seemed to divide itself, sidestepping to the left and right at the same time. It came away as two separate, whole beings: one of life born from utter darkness, the other an emissary of light itself.

"Contrarious Cantus, Tenebrae. A fragment of Hollow's Noise form. Wields a wide array of devastating psychs. Beware of when the six darklit planets align."

"Contrarious Cantus, Lumen. A fragment of Hollow's Noise form. The Garden's light burns brighter with each passing second. Defeat him quickly, or not at all."

The two discordant descriptions rang out simultaneously in Celia's mind, yet somehow, she heard and fully comprehended both.

Then Lumen and Blake disappeared from sight, leaving Celia alone in the darkness.

* * *

Blake trembled with anticipation as Celia and the shadowed Noise faded away, whisked to the other zone. Though Lumen remained hooded, he could sense the Noise watching him. "Are you in there, Faith?" he asked boldly. "Or are you hiding from us again, sending your Noise to clean up after you?"

A soft, incredulous laugh drifted out from beneath Lumen's hood. His voice was similar to Faith's, but was impossibly smooth and melodic. A low, reverberating echo followed it, as if there was a great power lurking behind every sound the Noise made. "You think I'm hiding from you?" Lumen asked in a disbelieving tone.

"Why wouldn't I think that? You've waited this long to face us, after all," Blake retorted. "You know, there's a bit of irony in this."

"Do tell," Lumen prompted.

"Only a few days ago, I was hoping for a chance to thank you," Blake began. "It was only because of you and Celia that I realized the truth, you see. I finally understood that I was a terrible person, and that I had no one to blame for it but myself."

"Ah, so you aren't entirely oblivious," Lumen marveled.

"I've done a lot of stupid things throughout my life," Blake admitted freely. "But the day that you shot me, I really hit rock-bottom, didn't I? You tried to stop me, and even now, I think I'm kind of grateful for that. I'm still not sure what came over me that day, but I do know that if it wasn't for meeting Celia here in the Underground, I'd probably still be the same bitter and worthless loser."

"It sounds like you've found some perspective," Lumen remarked lightly. "And it only costed you your life. Do you consider that to be a fair exchange?"

Inwardly, Blake was seething at the crude taunt, but he did his best to hide it. "See, this is why I've changed my mind about thanking you," he said nonchalantly, a slight quiver in his voice betraying his feigned calm. "The Reapers' Game really is just a game to you. It doesn't bother you in the slightest that this game is literally a matter of life and death for those of us who have been roped into playing."

"You believe it doesn't bother me?" Lumen asked mildly.

"If it does, it wasn't enough to keep you from toying with us," Blake spat. "Do you have any idea how much you mean to her? Oh, wait, of course you do! You stood over her memorial, laying flowers and pretty baubles on it while we were watching, pretending the entire time that you couldn't see her!"

"I did," Lumen admitted. "What of it?"

"She's been trapped here, playing your depraved game, partnered with the man who killed her. Anyone else would have given up then and there, but she kept on playing. She kept on fighting for her second chance, not just at life, but to be with you again," Blake hissed. "And where were you, Faith? You couldn't just watch from the sidelines, could you? You had to taunt her, placing yourself just out of her reach. Even when you were finally forced to show yourself to her, you brushed her aside. You couldn't even find the decency to tell her the truth about this horrible game."

"It is not a matter of decency. There are rules the Game Master must abide," Lumen replied.

"Screw your rules!" Blake thundered. "You let her spend all of yesterday thinking there was a light at the end of the road! We came all this way today, just so she could speak to you, so that she could convince herself that her dreams hadn't been a lie! Hell, we even had to fight our way past _two_ of your Reapers who didn't give a damn about your fucking rules!"

"Oh really?" Lumen asked dangerously.

"Yes, really," Blake said, gritting his teeth. "So tell me, Faith. Since you're so uniquely fond of rules, when were you planning to tell us that without erasing you, everything we've been through would have been for nothing? You came up with this stupid mission today just to let Celia think she could avoid fighting against you, and for what? So you can dash her hopes again?"

Lumen shook his head slowly. "I already told you, defeating me here will not make Celia the winner of this game," he reminded.

"You would have us lie down and die," Blake accused. "I may be a terrible person, but you… you're a monster. Life and death mean nothing to you, because you lurk between them, playing your cruel little game… but even that isn't enough for you. Twice now, you've gone out of your way to raise Celia's hopes, only to crush them again. You are a sick and twisted…"

"Enough," Lumen said. He spoke quietly, but there was an authoritative edge in his voice that could not be ignored. "Do not presume to know what I am, Mr. Daniels. Do not presume to understand why I have done as I've done. I will not deny that I am a monster – I am one of death's gatekeepers, after all – but everything I've done, I've done with careful deliberation. To the best of my ability, everything I've done has been in adherence to a purpose greater than myself."

"Like I'm about to believe that," Blake sneered.

"As I told you before, I did not expect you to understand," Lumen continued calmly. "You are only just beginning to see a world beyond your own. That, in itself, is quite an improvement. After all, not all that long ago, you were a sociopath who stabbed a woman to death for your own inability to communicate. Now, you yearn to see the light beyond the door. Though it remains far beyond your reach, I will reveal it to you nonetheless."

As Lumen finished speaking, he reached down to the elegant sash of golden silk that had replaced the ordinary belt Faith had worn, unclasping a pair of matching gold batons tipped with sun-like crests. The batons and the intricate golden sigils lining Lumen's robe began to gleam even brighter, emitting a soft, sanctifying white light.

"Enough of your riddles," Blake snapped, reaching for his pins. "Even if you're finally telling us the truth – even if I can't save Celia by defeating you – at least I'm taking you to hell with me!"

Lumen laughed, giving no indication of taking Blake's threat seriously. "By all means, try!" he invited challengingly.

* * *

 _Make or break, take what you'd like,_

 _I won't run away…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Make or Break. I think this track was exclusive to the Japanese/International versions, but I'm not sure. Maybe it was in the iOS remake?**


	10. Endgame: A Requiem of Dreams

**~ Endgame ~**

 **A Requiem of Dreams**

* * *

 _Only thing I can imagine,_

 _Living with all my voice,_

 _I'll admit that I may not be strongest,_

 _Torn up into the darkness, been there so many times,_

 _Now I know how to rise back up._

* * *

Confronted with an enemy seemingly forged from darkness itself, Celia's first thought was one of light. Her stylus darted before her, sketching a sun. A sphere of the purest, most brilliant light, inspired by the column that had shined down upon Faith during his transformation, came into being. Responding to Celia's will, it soared forth, slamming into the Noise with a tingling sound.

The Noise staggered soundlessly, then retaliated by thrusting one tainted palm forward. Four heavy black chains exploded outwards, soaring unerringly at Celia. She tried to dodge aside, but they followed her, wrapping around her and binding her limbs tightly together.

Celia struggled in vain, trying to break the unyielding chains. Finally, recognizing that her efforts were futile, she looked up at Tenebrae, unsure of what to expect.

The Noise's extended palm flared blue, and a torrent of water roared towards his seemingly helpless victim, consuming the first chain.

With a thought, Celia called to her stylus once more, sending it into a rough circle and interposing a frozen barrier between her and her attacker. The magical stream splashed off the shield, showering the young artist with seemingly harmless droplets of water.

Tenebrae's hand then flashed violet, and lightning surged through a second chain, dissolving the chain as it went and arcing around Celia's barrier. Before Celia could react, a powerful jolt ran through her.

A red flash, and the third chain burst into flames. Disoriented and unable to sketch something in time to stop the flames, Celia reached out to her teleportation pin, disappearing and reappearing on the other side of her enemy. To her horror, the remaining two chains had followed her, and the flames caught up a second later, devouring the rest of the chain and shrouding her in blistering heat.

Imagining a sudden downpour, Celia set her stylus to work, and a gush of water descended upon her, dousing the flames. Through the deluge, Celia then saw a green flash. Not knowing how else to defend herself, she teleported herself again, moving back to her original position. From there, she watched an avalanche of heavy boulders roll past where she had been standing moments ago, and breathed out a sigh of relief.

But her relief did not last long. Tenebrae was already moving again, holding both of his arms out to his sides, palms facing upward. He tilted his head up towards the sky.

Six pins erupted from the ground around him, leaving a web of cracks in their wake. Each pin then projected a sphere of colored light outwards, forming an irregular ring around Tenebrae, wide enough to encompass Celia as well. The six spheres began rotating around the Noise at varying speeds, and they seemed offset just enough so that they would not collide with one another.

With the six darklit planets in play, Tenebrae turned his attention to his opponent once more.

* * *

Blake stared calculatingly at Lumen, waiting for his opponent to make the first move.

Lumen stood similarly still for several seconds, then twirled both of his batons casually, folding his arms into a defense cross ahead of him so that one baton rested beneath each of his arms.

Then, in a blink of an eye, he had rushed up to Blake, snapping both batons outward. Blake tried to teleport himself away, but both batons slammed into his gut before his psych could take hold of him. He reappeared behind Lumen, clutching his belly in pain.

In a flash, Lumen was upon Blake once more, swinging his batons in a relentless flurry.

Again, Blake tried to teleport himself out of Lumen's reach. Again, the savage Noise arrived by his side just as he reoriented himself, and the sun-like sigils atop of the batons slammed into him from seemingly every direction at once.

Realizing that teleportation offered him no escape, Blake went on the offensive instead, desperately firing off magical lances at random. His luck proved exceptional, and three of the five lances he tossed slammed into his attacker, who staggered away, reeling from the powerful blows.

Brushing the pain away, Blake quickly activated another psych. A massive axe materialized, swinging overhead and descending heavily on Lumen.

Lumen's batons snapped up in a protective cross, catching Blake's axe with remarkable ease. There was a brief pulse of light, and then the glow surrounding the Noise seemed to intensify just slightly.

"Only a jump away," Lumen pronounced gravely.

The Noise leapt back, twirling gracefully in the air with both of his batons outstretched. The head of each baton flashed, and the light seemed to shoot straight up and down, forming thin, scintillating beams. The two beams darted outward, tracing a seemingly random pattern on the ground as the followed curved, unpredictable paths.

One of the beams seemed to home in on Blake. He tried to sidestep it at the last moment, but guessed poorly, for the beam unfortunately moved in the same direction. It slammed straight into him, exploding forcefully in a shower of golden flames.

Blake reflexively teleported himself away, disappearing a fraction of a second before Lumen dashed up to where he had been standing. The Noise chopped wildly with both batons, hitting only air. There was another blinding flash, and two more beams appeared, swirling across the ground and turning to rush towards Blake's new position.

As the beams neared him, Blake dove aside once more, firing off another barrage as he went. Lumen's light beams missed this time, and Blake's projectiles sailed past them, striking the Noise squarely on the chest and leaving a series of prominent scorch marks.

Lumen recoiled when struck, but recovered quickly, flipping both of his batons in full arcs. Two more light beams shot outward, and this time, Blake teleport himself away from the beams.

When Blake reoriented himself, he found that the light surrounding the Noise had grown brighter yet again. "Only a skip away," Lumen declared.

* * *

Before Tenebrae could strike again, a trio of meteors slammed into him, sending him reeling. Celia's stylus remained in motion, following the three molten projectiles with another scintillating burst of light.

Heavy black chains shot forth, silhouetted by the fast-fading light, but Celia was quick to teleport herself out of reach. Her stylus sped back towards her, and the comfortable grip of her bow fell into her hands. Sizzling streaks of electric-blue lightning burst forth, one after another, drilling into the shadowy Noise.

The largest of the six spheres, pale with light brown swirls, seemed to flicker. That was the only warning Celia received before jagged monochrome lightning erupted from somewhere behind Tenebrae, firing back her way. Before she even realized what was happening, the bolt reached and pierced through her, leaving her numb and twitching uncontrollably.

A different sphere flickered, and large gray bubbles appeared around Tenebrae. The Noise charged at Celia, and the bubbles followed, orbiting him eerily.

Celia had lost her bow in her moment of distraction, and knew she did not have the time to redraw it. Instead, she invoked Lightning Rook directly, sending forth another bolt of lightning to stun Tenebrae and pop the bubbles surrounding him. She began drawing again, too, reimagining the continuing snowfall as a shower of scorching flames.

The large sphere with swirling brown patterns flashed again, and this time, Celia knew what to expect. She teleported herself away again, narrowly avoiding another wave of black lightning, then completed her sketch. A flaming swirl appeared above them, setting the falling flakes of snow ablaze. Celia then brought her stylus back to her side, drawing a silvery, egg-shaped shell around herself.

At first, Tenebrae appeared to be in pain, writhing and twisting as smoldering embers rained down upon him. Then another of the orbiting spheres flashed, and a translucent gray barrier appeared around the Noise. Shadows churned and roiled within the barrier, erasing the burn marks left by Celia's meteors, arrows, and firestorm.

The flaming swirl above vanished, and the snowfall resumed once more. Tenebrae lowered his barrier, and to Celia's horror, the Noise seemed to be in perfect condition once more.

Black lightning flashed across the zone again, blasting Celia off her feet. Trembling and unsure of what else to do, Celia raised Lightning Rook and fired again, missing quite badly. More monochrome lightning soared her way, stinging her painfully as it played out violently across her quivering form.

Celia knew she couldn't keep trading blows with the powerful Noise when her psychs were unable to inflict any lasting harm. Weakened by Tenebrae's lightning and barely able to move, Celia willed her stylus back to her side, renewed her egg-shaped shield.

A second later, a sizzling gray inferno appeared in front of her, seemingly out of thin air. The magical flames then surged towards Celia, trying to push through her defenses. Celia's barrier held, though, and safely behind it, Celia went to work once more, trying to imagine something strong enough to overpower her seemingly insurmountable foe.

Her stylus began tracing an outline of itself, which became a duplicate that drifted up to merge with the original. It continued drawing, and with each copy of itself that it made and absorbed, it become blurrier and denser. Its lines, too, became blurred, and the newer images of itself seemed to become less and less defined.

A crack appeared in Celia's shield as it finally began to wear thin, and wisps of gray fire began leaking through. Celia teleported herself away immediately, needing to buy just a few more seconds. When she reappeared and felt herself being drawn towards her stylus, she knew her plan was working. Her stylus had become a simple black mark, so dense that it seemed to draw in all light from around it. It tugged at Tenebrae and his psychs, too, for the Noise appeared to be trying to resist the stylus's pull, and his next arc of lightning curved towards the stylus, missing its mark.

Celia willed her stylus to plunge downward. The stylus jabbed straight down, punching through the snow and the grass and soil below. The whole world began trembling, leaving both Celia and her opponent off balance. Celia then teleported herself further back, a split second before the stylus exploded into a hungering vortex.

Time itself seemed to slow as the black hole seized Tenebrae. The Noise tried to pull away, but to no avail, for the psych proved irresistible, dragging him inwards towards absolute darkness.

* * *

"Quit your rambling!" Blake cried in frustration, unnerved by Lumen's nonsensical comments. The teen gestured with one of his pins, and his axe rematerialized at his side.

Blake knew the blow wouldn't connect, and even as Lumen shifted both of his batons to block the summoned weapon, Blake was already firing again with his other pin. Magical lances hammered into Lumen, tearing further at the Noise's formerly-pristine robe.

The mysterious glow surrounding Lumen seemed to dampen the impact this time, and the Noise barely seemed to flinch before launching himself forward in another devastating attack routine. His batons now seemed to flash with every strike, sending searing pillars of light spilling forth one after another as Blake scrambled to stay clear.

Blake was forced to teleport away a moment later when Lumen caught up, only narrowly avoiding a blow aimed straight for his head. Unfortunately, he reappeared directly in the path of one of Lumen's beams. Before he could correct his mistake, the pillars slammed into him, blasting him from his feet. Even before he hit the ground, a second beam struck him, and then a third, hurling him through the air to crash painfully upon the frozen lawn.

"Only a hop away," came Lumen's unshakably calm voice.

"Shut… up!" Blake screamed, shrugging his dazed stupor away and flipping himself lightly back onto his feet. He thrust both fists forward, one pin held in each.

Silvery-blue chains erupted from the ground around Lumen, seizing and pinning the powerful Noise. Then, a swarm of magical lances appeared around Blake. With a thought, Blake sent his projectiles shooting forward, channeling his rage and frustration into what he hoped was a lethal bombardment. Raw, azure energy spilled forth as, one after another, his lances hit their mark. The air itself began to vibrate uncontrollably, then the cerulean light exploded outward, engulfing Lumen whole.

Then the light faded, and though Lumen looked battered and torn, he seemed far from beaten. The Noise braced himself defensively, his movements remaining fluid despite the countless scratches and tears across his form. Then he spun forcefully, and this time, a gentle trail of light followed the head of each baton. The silvery lines sharpened, then spiraled outwards. One lashed out like a whip, striking Blake in the face and throwing him back to the ground, leaving a bloody gash on his cheek.

Blake's head lolled to the side as he tried to reorient himself.

Then Lumen was standing right beside him, and Blake felt the Noise's two batons pounding forcefully at him. He heard a loud crack and felt a sharp sting of pain as one of the batons slammed viciously into his chest.

Though it hurt him just to move, Blake reached for another of his pins, knowing that he had to get out of the Noise's reach. He teleported himself away once more, hoping to land clear of the Noise's devastating light beams.

Behind him, Lumen continued playing out his fury, chopping and slashing wildly at nothing in particular, sending pillars of light cascading outwards in every direction. Blake had less than a second to catch his breath before he was forced to start running once more, desperately trying to avoid the relentless barrage.

Lumen came to an abrupt stop, bracing himself suddenly, and Blake almost missed the telltale sign. The teen threw himself to the ground, ignoring the agonizing burn in his chest. The pain grew tenfold when he landed, and he knew then that at the very least, he had broken a rib.

Silvery cords lashed outward again, spiraling harmlessly over Blake.

Unwilling to give in to despair, Blake forced himself to his feet yet again, and stared into the darkness beneath Lumen's hood. He took some solace in the fact that his opponent looked at least as haggard as he felt.

But despite the many visible wounds the Noise bore, Lumen's voice remained as unwaveringly calm as ever. "Only a step away," he said, the words rolling smoothly off his tongue and hitting impossibly clear notes.

The light around Lumen flared up, now shining so brightly that Blake could barely make out the Noise's silhouette.

* * *

The spiraling vortex faded away, and Celia's sleek black stylus returned to normal, soaring back to her side.

Tenebrae slumped back, barely recognizable. It looked as if the force of Celia's psych had dragged at the Noise from every direction imaginable, twisting and distorting him as if he were made of clay. Points jutted out randomly from his coat, and his head had been crushed into an irregular, angular shape, leaving his glowing red eyes uneven. Half of his right wing had been torn away entirely, and what remained was a bent, useless mess of swirling darkness.

An orbiting sphere flashed, and a shielding sphere formed around Tenebrae.

"No!" Celia cried. Heeding her desperate call, her stylus shot towards her, and her bow reappeared at her side. Lightning arrows sizzled forward, slamming into the resilient barrier in quick succession, but they were unable to reach the Noise within.

The dark shadows churned within the sphere, and right before Celia's eyes, Tenebrae began mending himself once more. When the barrier finally disappeared, Celia's opponent looked fully unharmed.

Black flames roared hungrily through the air, forming a serpentine pattern and plunging down at Celia from above. The young artist countered immediately, and the flames splashed harmlessly against a silvery kite shield. She then presented the shield in front of her, just in time to stop a stream of black lightning.

Then another of the orbiting spheres became active for the first time, and crackling orbs of dark light sprayed outward from Tenebrae's extended palm. One of them slammed into Celia's shield, shattering it neatly in two, and Celia only barely had time to teleport herself away before the others connected.

Tenebrae spun to face her, and another of the spheres flashed. Celia felt the ground at her feet growing even colder, and scramble aside just before an icy spear erupted from the ground where she had been standing.

Celia began to run, and intricate, jagged icicles continued shooting up into the sky in her wake. The freezing projectiles each soared up about thirty feet before exploding, showering both Celia and Tenebrae with stinging sleet.

Out of the corner of her eye, Celia saw the largest sphere flash again. She turned sharply, crouching as she came to a stop. Tenebrae's next bolt of lightning missed her by less an inch, flashing straight in front of her. She countered with a lightning bolt of her own. Then, simply because she wasn't what else she could do, she hurled another flurry of meteors at the Noise.

More black orbs of crackling energy spun Celia's way, and then another flickering gray spiral of flames burst from the ground around her feet. The flames clipped her legs as she leapt aside, but she fought past the pain, finishing her drawing of a chasm at Tenebrae's feet.

Tenebrae simply spread his wings and took to the air, and with that, Celia knew she was out of options. Perhaps there was more she could have imagined, but Faith's Noise just seemed ready to accept anything she could dish out at him and more.

More an act of defiance than anything, Celia began invoking her Lightning Rook pin repeatedly, blasting away. Tenebrae hung there motionlessly, suspended in midair, accepting the blows without response. Finally, Celia's arm slumped down to her side. She looked up at her foe in despair, wondering why the Noise had stopped retaliating.

Then she noticed that the six orbiting spheres were all approaching a direct line behind Tenebrae. Michael's warning about the darklit planets echoed in her mind as she watched the spheres reach perfect alignment behind the dark Noise she battled.

* * *

Blake stared defiantly into the light, refusing to look away. He could no longer even really make out the shape of Lumen's hood, but somehow, he knew Lumen was staring back at him, too. Blake knew that he should be attacking or preparing to move aside, but all rational thinking had long since flown by. If he had to be honest with himself, Blake knew there was no way he could outlast his opponent.

But after all the years he had spent lying to himself, what was one more lie?

"Come on, Faith! Don't tell me you're too tired to fight on," Blake jeered breathlessly, trying his best to ignore the countless bruises and cuts he had sustained. As he spoke aloud, the festering wound in his chest sent a burning shock running through him, and he winced painfully.

Lumen only stood there, silent and unwavering.

"Damn you!" Blake spat. "Quit mocking me and fight, you bastard!" He thrust one hand forward, ignoring his body's protests, and a stream of sapphire energy flurried forward, too unfocused to form any true shapes.

The half-formed psych splashed harmlessly against Lumen's illuminated form. The shielded Noise didn't even flinch, and only continued staring into Blake impassively.

"Damn you!" Blake cried again, calling for his axe. The mighty weapon swung down at Lumen, who did not even move to block it. The blade struck where the Noise's head should have been, then promptly dissolved into fine, golden sand.

Losing what little composure he had left, Blake let out an angry, incoherent scream, and continued his onslaught, alternating between his two psychs. He even tried to bind his foe with more silvery-blue chains, simply for good measure.

But try as he might, none of his psychs could penetrate the Noise's divine, impregnable light.

Then a voice came from within the light, not the high, otherworldly voice of Lumen, but the natural, gentle, sympathetic voice of Faith. "It's over, Daniels. You cannot overcome even a mote of the Garden's luminescence."

"Shut up!" Blake ordered furiously, blasting away. When his psychs failed him yet again, he went for his newest pin instead. "Three point one four one five nine two six five!" he chanted. A wave of energy exploded out from the Conductor's pin, and like Blake's own psychs, it seemed to have no effect.

A ray of light curved and swirled outward, forming a whip and swaying hypnotically. In his weary state, Blake could only stare at it, entranced, until it struck him painfully on the wrist. He dropped the black-and-white pin Celia had given him, and the tendril of light caught it, pulling it to Lumen's waiting grasp.

Again, the Noise began speaking in Faith's mostly unaltered voice. "That was very bold of you," he remarked lightly. "I've never seen anyone asides from Minamimoto attempt a Level _i_ Flare. Bold, but unfortunately quite feeble."

Blake only stared at the Noise angrily, unable to find the words for another bitter retort.

"You know, I've always wanted to try this pin out myself," Lumen continued conversationally. "Now seems to be as good a time as any." With that said, the Noise began to chant a stream of numbers himself. "Three point one four one five nine two six five three five eight nine seven nine three two three eight four six two six four three three eight three two seven nine five zero…"

The pin flashed brightly, a momentary prick of light that just barely outshone Lumen's radiant aura.

A storm of raw energy spilled outwards, and before Blake realized what was happening, it felt as if his entire body had burst into flames. The air rushed by, and he felt like he was flying, falling, or perhaps a bit of both.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Blake found himself lying limp on the snow, nearly forty feet away where he had been standing. He couldn't really feel anything at all: not the pain, not the cold, not even his own limbs. All he wanted then was to escape, to close his eyes and sleep.

But that, Blake knew he could not do. "It's not over," he rasped, mustering every ounce of strength remaining to him and finding his voice once more. "It's not over!" he repeated loudly.

"No, it isn't," his opponent agreed. "Another twenty digits and it probably would've been, though. Tack another fifty digits onto that, and I probably would've blasted myself in the process, too. Leave it to Minamimoto to create the most suicidal pin the Underground has ever known, I suppose."

Blake took a deep breath, realizing that he was beginning to regain feeling in his limbs. He rolled sloppily over onto his side, and clumsily pushed himself up into a kneeling position.

Lumen watched him rise, then spoke again, the unearthly, inhuman tone returning to his voice. "And so we arrive upon Eden's doorstep," he said, his serene, seemingly nonsensical words filling Blake with dread.

* * *

As he had done to summon the six darklit planets, Tenebrae spread his arms wide, looking up to the sky. Behind him, the six planets held their position for a moment longer, remaining in a perfect line. Then they rotated along a new, perpendicular axis, until they formed a vertical line directly above Tenebrae. All six planets flashed at once.

A sense of growing apprehension plagued Celia, and she began firing wildly, throwing everything she could imagine at her Noise opponent. Boulders, meteors, clumps of ice and snow, cars, and even a painter's easel went flying out from her stylus, punctuated by bolts of lightning, but Tenebrae's barrier had reappeared, effortlessly defeating all of her psychs.

Celia's stylus then darted forward, drawing another layer around Tenebrae's barrier. It solidified into a cement box as the young artist tried to sever the connection between the Noise and the six darklit planets above.

Then, for the first time, Tenebrae spoke, and upon hearing the Noise's voice, Celia could no longer believe that even a sliver of the man who had been her friend remained in the twisted demonic creature before her. Tenebrae's gravelly, rasping voice sounded nothing like Faith's. It did not even sound remotely human. Each word seemed to have been violently torn from the Noise's cursed lips, echoed by a powerful, discordant rumbling.

"Be eclipsed by the darklit celestials aligned."

The shadow of the six darklit planets began to spread. Celia turned to run, but it felt as if she were treading on air, unable to escape the encroaching shadow. She called to her stylus to grant her wings once more, but even then, it felt as if she were moving in place.

The darkness crept up behind her, swallowing her whole and stealing the light from around her, until all she could see was Tenebrae himself.

A single droplet of water twirled around the Noise, shining impossibly bright, rekindling Celia's hopes. It soared towards her, elongating into a single, icy feather. That feather multiplied into hundreds, then thousands, forming a protective sphere, her only defense from the crushing darkness.

* * *

Lumen seemed to absorb the light around him, and although he remained too bright for Blake to make out his features, his silhouette became more defined. The angelic Noise crossed his arms imperiously, and his now-golden wings flapped gently behind him, lifting him up into the air.

When Lumen next spoke, his words resonated with power, echoing powerfully as if a hundred beings were speaking in the same smooth, melodic voice.

"Fade into the light of the Paradise lost."

Mysterious clouds rose from the ground, as if to cage Blake in. Then light shone outwards from Lumen, reflecting off the clouds in the many vivid autumn hues of the setting sun. Small orbs of light began cascading down from the sky like falling stars, shattering against the frost-covered grass and leaving pools of light where they fell.

Though every movement pained him, Blake began scrambling left and right to avoid the beautiful, yet terrifying storm. His eyes stung as the sky grew brighter and brighter, and at last, he tore his gaze away from the sky, curling up in the corner in hopes that the falling light would not strike him. But by then, the ground itself had been consumed, too, becoming little more than a shining, featureless plane of light.

* * *

Light and darkness alike faded, leaving Celia and Blake lying upon the tranquil frozen meadow. The unscathed layers of snow covering the meadow and the nearby sidewalks gave the clear summer night a tranquil, wintery feel.

Celia struggled to push herself into a sitting position, crushing a few frosty feathers beneath her palms as if they were made of soft snow. She looked up to see Tenebrae and Lumen standing side by side.

The two Noise turned to face each other and seemed to step into one another. Light and darkness melded together, then Faith stood before her once more. He met Celia's gaze dispassionately, but there was a trace of tenderness and remorse in his eyes. "Are we finished?" he asked quietly.

As much as to avoid looking at Faith as out of concern for her partner, Celia glanced at Blake, who seemed only barely conscious. Fighting on was certainly out of the question; she wasn't even sure how much longer the teen would survive.

"I'm not going to erase you," Faith said reassuringly. "In fact… here."

Celia flinched as a translucent gray sphere materialized around her. As shadows began swirling soothingly around her, she caught a glimpse of a similar barrier appearing around Blake. Then Faith's psych took hold of her, and she was blinded to the world beyond the sphere. Her wounds mended, and any lingering pain disappeared. Her fatigue began to fade, too, as if she had just awakened from a long night's rest.

When the barriers disappeared, Celia found herself feeling alert and thoroughly rejuvenated. Beside her, Blake rose to his feet. He, too, seemed to have made a full recovery. "You may as well erase us," Blake said bitterly. "I'm not playing your game again, and I won't be a Reaper. I won't be like you. I bet Celia's thinking the same thing."

"Celia doesn't know what to think right now," Faith said somberly.

Celia opened her mouth to protest, but her words died in her throat. Faith was right, she knew. She didn't know what to think – or what to believe – anymore.

"We'll call our first battle here a draw," Faith went on. "Only thirty minutes remain. You two should have little trouble surviving the rest of the night."

As he stepped up to the waterside, he reached into his coat for a pin. Several hundred feet away, the water's surface began to churn softly. Giant branches of ice covered in crystallized, frosted leaves sprouted from the calm tides, stretching high into the sky. The tree's massive trunk, at least fifty feet in diameter, followed close behind.

Winter's Hollow had come to life.

"Celia… please don't follow me," Faith said. He hopped down towards the waters below, which froze to catch him as he fell. He then began casually striding across the water's surface, leaving an icy trail as he went, a walkway leading straight towards the roots of the frozen tree.

* * *

As he watched Faith slowly shrink in the distance, Blake shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, Celia," he apologized, in barely more than a whisper. "I shouldn't have attacked him. I know you still had things you wanted to say to him. I just… I was so angry. The way he stood there, lying straight to our faces, jerking you around after everything you've been through… I couldn't stand it. I wanted to punch the bastard in the face."

"It's okay," Celia said forgivingly. "I kind of wanted to hit him, too. I'm sure he has his reasons, but I'm tired of him keeping me in the dark. He wasn't lying to us, though."

Blake looked at her incredulously. Then he turned away and sighed. "You still trust him, don't you?" he said in a resigned tone.

"Mm-hmm," Celia answered peacefully. She watched silently as Faith reached the frozen tree and began scaling the branches, agilely moving along them towards the front. Then he disappeared from view, and though Celia could not see the front of the tree from where she was standing, she knew her friend was resting there, waiting for the Game to end.

A powerful longing filled the young artist, and she yearned to be there, too, standing within her creation beside the one hope she still clung to.

"Sorry, Faith," Celia whispered. "But the world ends with me."

Blake overheard her, and turned to her in shock. "Celia, you aren't really thinking about going after him, are you?" he asked fearfully, clearly still shaken by their battle against the powerful Game Master.

But unlike Blake, Celia wasn't the least bit scared. "I stopped thinking rationally a while ago, I think," Celia admitted.

"We can't defeat him," Blake reminded her despairingly.

"I don't intend to defeat him, or even fight him," Celia replied. "I still just want to talk to him."

"And what if he refuses to talk to you until the Game is over?" Blake pointed out.

"Then I'll stay with him and wait for the Game to be over," Celia answered simply. She turned to her partner, smiling. "Thank you, Blake."

Something in her tone sat poorly with Blake, leaving him feeling quite uneasy. "For what?" he asked cautiously.

"When I became your partner, I didn't really give it much thought," Celia explained. "I was afraid to fade away. I wanted to live again, and I was ready to do just about anything to make that happen. Then things turned rough, and I think I nearly gave in."

Blake swallowed uncomfortably. "It was my fault things turned rough," he argued. "Just like it was my fault you were here to begin with."

"But you changed, Blake," Celia said. "You tried to make yourself better, for my sake. Even though we didn't quite get along, you offered me hope when I needed it most. You were so determined to help me and to be the best partner for me that you could be."

Blake shook his head shamefully. "I killed you, Celia. Trying to help you win your life back was the least I could do," he insisted. "You don't need to thank me. You shouldn't even be forgiving me for what I've done."

"You don't need me to forgive you. You need to forgive yourself," Celia replied. "Faith said I won't be this game's winner, but you might still be. You might still get another chance for yourself, and I really hope you do."

"No way," Blake immediately disagreed. "I don't deserve to live again, and even if the Reapers make me the winner, I won't let them bring me back to life. I'll make them bring you back instead."

"Somehow, I don't think that's really an option," Celia said, smiling faintly. "Blake, if you win, and if the Reapers offer you a second chance to live again, please accept it. I know you believe that you already messed up your life, but you can still fix it. Try to make things right with your friends and family. Keep chasing your dreams, find yourself new ones if you have to."

"But…" Blake tried to interrupt.

"I don't believe for a second that you're really good for nothing," Celia said, cutting him off. "You helped me survive this week. You solved most of the riddles the Reapers left for us. You were the one who realized something was wrong with Graham. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for, Blake."

Blake fell silent and looked down at his own feet.

"Please, Blake," Celia said. "Promise me that if the Reapers grant you a second chance, you'll try to make the most of it."

"Have you really forgiven me so easily?" Blake asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

Celia grinned shakily. "I don't know. Ask me again tomorrow," she said.

"That's not funny," Blake protested weakly, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips, too.

"Thank you, Blake. Thank you for being my partner, for trying to become a better person for my sake, and for all the time you've spent looking out for me," Celia said again. "Thank you, and… goodbye." Her mind reached out for her stylus pin and she went to work, imagining swirling golden loops and strands.

"Goodbye?" Blake asked blankly. "What do you mean?"

"I can't ask you to come with me," Celia explained. Her sketch finished, and golden chains appeared above her and Blake both, falling over them weightlessly and shackling them together. "I still trust Faith, but if this is a mistake and I wind up getting myself erased, I don't want to take you with me."

Celia's stylus spiraled downward, slashing through the chains. The links broke apart with a sound akin to shattering glass, and Celia knew at once that her plan had worked; she could no longer sense Blake's presence at all.

"W-What did you just do?" Blake demanded, horrified.

"I broke our pact," Celia explained calmly. "Take care of yourself, okay? Maybe we'll see each other again someday."

"Don't! This is crazy!" Blake protested, and Celia felt her former partner reaching out to her, trying to reestablish their pact.

"Goodbye," Celia said again. Feeling strangely light and free, Celia rushed to the water's edge, leaping down to the icy walkway. As soon as she set foot upon the ice, it began to melt. She began to run, and the icy trail continued to melt in her wake, lasting only long enough to guide her to where she so desperately yearned to be.

* * *

After what felt like an eternity, Celia found herself standing just a few feet away from tree's grand hollow. Faith sat at the edge, his legs dangling over the tree's sturdy roots and his gaze fixed upon the distant city lights of Seattle. Celia then glanced down at her timer and saw that, to her surprise, less than ten minutes had passed since she had left Blake's side.

"Faith," Celia called.

Faith climbed to his feet and turned to look at her, wearing a bittersweet smile. He did not seem the least bit surprised to see her again. "Hello, Celia," he said.

Celia crossed the last few branches, shivering slightly when she felt the wind's cool, gentle caress. Faith met her as she neared the hollow, offering her his hand for the last, precarious step.

"Here," Faith said, removing his coat and gingerly draping it over Celia's shoulders.

"Thanks," Celia said gratefully.

Faith returned to his seat, and Celia followed, sitting down beside him and leaning against his shoulder.

"Where's your partner?" Faith asked quietly.

"I don't have one right now," Celia replied. "I ended my pact with Blake."

Faith gave her an odd look. "How? Players cannot break their own pacts," he said.

Celia shrugged. "I don't know for sure. I just remembered when you broke my pact with him, and tried to do the same thing," she said. "And then our pact was gone."

Faith shook his head in disbelief. "You never cease to surprise me, C," he said, impressed.

"Why, thank you. You can be rather surprising yourself, you know. I never thought I'd see a blizzard in the middle of July," Celia teased.

"But breaking your pact with your partner was foolish," Faith berated her. "There's still fifteen minutes left in this game, and you've left both you and your former partner defenseless."

"You sent Jason on his way without a partner," Celia reminded. "If he's safe from the Noise and the Reapers, Blake should be, too."

"And what about you?" Faith asked.

"I'm here with you," Celia replied.

"I am the Game Master. I am your opponent," Faith reminded.

In answer, Celia grasped Faith's hand tightly. Her stylus appeared and quickly drew a chain around her and Faith. Faith seemed to resist at first, but he relented quickly. When her drawn chains vanished, Celia could sense Faith's vibrant presence once again. "You're also my friend. Now you're my partner, too," Celia said lightly, trying to hide the giddy feeling that had come over her. "You'll keep me safe, won't you?"

Faith sighed helplessly. "I'll try," he agreed. "I've been trying, really, but you seem determined to make keeping it as difficult as possible."

"Sorry," Celia apologized with a sheepish giggle.

"It's not your fault," Faith said, backtracking hastily. "The world is what it is."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" Celia asked hopefully.

Faith shook his head slowly. "I can't. Please believe me, Celia. I wish I could have told you everything from the start, but there are…"

"Rules, I know," Celia said understandingly. "It's okay. I believe you, Faith. I still trust you."

"We're almost there, Celia. The Game is almost over. Once it is, I'll tell you everything you want to know," Faith promised.

Celia's contented smile faded. "Faith, what will happen to me once the Game is over?" she asked, dreading the answer. "Can you tell me that, at least?"

Faith pondered her question carefully. "Yes and no," he finally admitted. "You will have to make a decision. No one, not even I, can tell you what your decision should be, let alone make it for you."

One by one, the options Jason had mentioned earlier echoed in Celia's mind. Erasure. Playing the Reapers' Game again. Becoming a Reaper. Celia thought of Blake, then, remembering her final words to the teen. Then she thought of herself, recalling one of her earlier conversations with Faith.

"What is it, C?" Faith asked, noticing Celia's thoughtful expression.

"I was thinking about how much this game has changed Blake, when I realized that it's changed me, too," Celia admitted. "Do you remember asking me once whether I was happy with my life?"

"I do," Faith said, nodding slowly. "Why?"

"I thought I was happy, at the time," Celia explained. "Now, I'm not so sure. I think I was only content because I was afraid of losing what I had. When I first became an artist, I knew it would be a long and difficult road, but it felt like the right thing to do. Then everything began to crumble around me. I changed my work to fit in. I tried to compromise, hoping to keep my dreams alive. I lost sight of what I truly wanted. Then I met you. You were willing to listen to me, not just to what I had to say, but to the thoughts I tried to put into my work. You understood me the way no one else could."

"You give me far too much credit for something so simple. I listened because I wanted to understand you, and I understood you because I listened," Faith said, shaking his head and looking embarrassed. "But, what does that have to do with the Game?"

"Because until I came here, I didn't understand why you were so important to me, Faith," Celia said. "I never noticed how empty my life was while I was alive."

It was Faith's turn to adopt a thoughtful look. "Interesting. You are coming to understand the Reapers' Game on your own," he remarked.

"Not on my own," Celia corrected quietly. "Even though you've been trying to tell me as little as possible, I've been listening to you, trying to understand you, just like you did for me."

"Have you considered scanning me with your Player pin?" Faith asked.

"I thought about it, when I still thought you were a normal, living person," Celia admitted. "But I couldn't do it. It seemed wrong. Intrusive."

"Go ahead and scan me," Faith invited.

"I didn't think Reapers could be scanned," Celia said cautiously.

"Your Player pin doesn't just allow you to scan and imprint. It protects you from scanning and imprinting, too, which is why Players cannot scan or imprint upon each other," Faith explained. "Reapers carry a pin that affords them a similar level of protection, but my pin is a little bit different. You should have little difficulty scanning me."

Unable to resist her curiosity, Celia concentrated upon her Player pin. A steady, bold voice she did not recognize resonated in her mind. The voice seemed full of passion, vigor, conviction, and determination.

"To right the countless wrongs of our day, we shine this light of true redemption, that this place may become as paradise. What a wonderful world such would be…"

"What does it mean?" Celia asked Faith, bewildered.

Faith sighed. "That's who I am," he explained cryptically, rising and moving to stand at the center of the hollow. Behind him, Celia got to her feet, too. "Celia, you said you still trusted me. Did you mean it?"

"I… of course," Celia said, though she suddenly felt as if something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Then I have a favor to ask of you," Faith said gravely. "I need you to try to erase me."

"W-What!?" Celia gasped.

"Don't hold back," Faith warned, his expression hardening.

For several seconds, Celia could only stare in shock. Then, when it became clear that Faith was not joking, the young artist shook her head vehemently. "No. I'm not going to fight you. I won't try to erase you," she declared.

"You will, or you will be erased yourself," Faith promised coldly.

"Why are you doing this?" Celia whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "What's gotten into you, Faith?"

"I stand between you and your dreams of the future," Faith countered. "Now is the time to choose, Celia. Will you hold fast to your hopes and aspirations, or is this where you surrender them forever?"

"No… Faith, please," Celia begged, her voice barely audible.

A frozen mist began swirling around the Game Master's feet. The flakes of ice slowly drifted upward, wrapping around the Game Master's left hand and extending outward, crystallizing into a shimmering, intricate leaf-bladed sword made purely of ice.

Faith presented his frozen weapon with a graceful flourish. "Please, Celia," he said, a pleading look in his eyes. "Don't give up. Give up on yourself, and you give up on the world."

* * *

When Celia did not immediately move, Faith jabbed his sword in her direction. A violent, wintery gale roared towards her, tearing her off her feet and casting her out of the tree's grand hollow. She felt herself falling towards the frigid waters below, and reached desperately for her pins. Moments before hitting the water's surface, she disappeared, reappearing inside the hollow.

Upon her return, Celia felt a great surge of power, and when she saw Faith charging at her, she lashed out reflexively with Lightning Rook, throwing a massive blast of lightning at her attacker. Faith braced himself, and a barrier comprised of small, hexagonal tiles of ice appeared around him, but Celia's lightning crashed straight through. Faith staggered back, grunting in pain.

"Faith! Please, stop!" Celia pleaded.

But Faith said nothing, and only charged again. Desperate to stop him, Celia began sketching a brick wall. Halfway through, her eyes went wide with horror as the surge of power she had felt began fading away. She and Faith were still bound by a pact, she remembered. Now, Faith was using her own strength against her.

Knowing that the wall would not hold, Celia teleported herself away again. She turned in time to see Faith's sword cleaving straight through the wall. In the same, fluid motion, Faith fell into a crouch, spinning to face Celia where she now stood. A sphere of solid ice erupted from his free hand, spinning as it soared across the hollow. Celia dove to the ground just in time, and the projectile slammed into the wall behind her, exploding into countless jagged shards.

Then Celia felt Faith's power reaching her. Fighting back tears, she reached out to her stylus. A wall of crackling flames formed in front of her before rolling forward like a deadly, incinerating wave.

Faith burst through the fire wave, shielded by another of his frozen barriers. His sword flashed forward again. This time, Celia knew she had enough power to defeat the attack, and ordered her stylus to mimic Faith's barrier. Faith's sword slammed into her tiled barrier repeatedly, unable to penetrate.

Celia teleported herself away again as she felt the borrowed power leaving her. She turned in time to see Faith leaping into the air, his sword seemingly taking on a life of its own. The glistening weapon darted forward, stabbing straight through the barrier Celia had left behind. Then Faith and his blade spun in midair, and sped across the room the other way, towards Celia's new position.

Celia dove aside, and felt an inexplicable urge to curl herself up against her limbs. She did so, balancing her weight perfectly so that she could come out of her roll standing. Then, expecting Faith to strike again, she threw herself to the side. Faith zipped overhead once more, then landed lightly on his feet.

Almost immediately, Faith spun and charged once more. Celia threw a bolt of lightning to slow him as she felt her power growing, and called to her stylus. A sword, identical to Faith's, appeared in her hand.

That stopped Faith in his tracks. "Have you ever used a sword before?" he asked, frowning.

Celia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Nope," she finally said. "Care to teach me how before you dismember me?" she retorted dryly, hoping to bring her friend to his senses.

"As you wish," Faith agreed, taking no note of her sarcasm. He flipped his sword to his right hand, then charged again, chopping downwards. Celia only barely had time to shift her own blade and intercept the strike. Faith pivoted hard, reversing his momentum and slashing again from the opposite direction.

Somehow, Celia noticed the subtle shift in her opponent's balance, and anticipated the strike. She spun away Faith's blade, then thrust her own sword forward, driving Faith back. Celia felt an odd sensation then, as if an unseen force was reaching out to her, guiding her movements. She leapt forward, launching a series of carefully measured chops and thrusts to put her opponent on the defensive, stopping only when she felt her power waning.

At the first opening, Faith back flipped away, putting himself out of Celia's reach. A barrier formed around him, turning aside Celia's countering lightning bolt. Then Faith allowed his sword to lead him into another series of quick, aerial forward thrusts, dashing back and forth across the hollow as Celia desperately rolled away from each attack.

As Faith's third strike went wide, Celia called to her stylus, renewing the fading lines of her sword. Faith landed a few steps away, and this time, Celia charged him, slashing in a quick, rhythmic pattern. She easily overpowered Faith's attempted parries, ending with a powerful thrust that nearly impaled Faith's shoulder.

With impossible speed, Faith brought his own sword sweeping outward, just barely turning Celia's weapon aside. Then he thrust his free hand forward, and a cloud of frost erupted from his palm, engulfing Celia.

Thinking quickly, Celia willed her stylus back to her, lining herself with gentle, warm flames that easily suppressed the bitter chill. Faith took advantage of her distraction to strike again, but she was already long gone, teleporting herself to the far side of the hollow with a thought.

Celia didn't stay gone, though. She promptly teleported herself back up to Faith, drawing her own form into lightning just before her teleportation psych could take hold. Faith must have been expecting her, for he was already backing away, but Celia was too quick, rushing through him and leaving him momentarily stunned.

Without breaking her stride, Celia pivoted smoothly, turning just as her stylus deposited her bow into her waiting hands. She fired immediately, then shot Faith a second time even as he was reeling from her first shot. Then she fired a third time, only this time, Faith's barrier came back up in time to block it.

Faith's icy barrier exploded almost immediately after deflecting Celia's lightning. Faith surged forward, slicing Celia's bow cleanly in half. Celia's stylus darted in, but before Celia could sketch anything else, Faith spun, slicing the stylus apart with a perfectly-timed reversal.

Celia grabbed for Minamimoto's teleportation pin, but before she could invoke it, Faith slammed into her, knocking the pin from her grasp and dropping her to the ground. Before she could sort out what just happened, she felt a chill from the frozen blade hovering an inch from her neck.

* * *

Feeling thoroughly defeated, and not just for having lost their battle, Celia looked up to Faith, bitterly meeting his gaze. "Do it, then," she whispered. "Go on. Erase me, Faith."

Faith only smiled disarmingly and backed away, dismissing his sword. "Even if I wanted to, which I mostly certainly do not, it's too late. Time's up. Congratulations, Celia. You've survived the Reapers' Game."

Celia looked down to her palm, and found that her timer was gone. Strangely, she did not feel relieved or triumphant, or even remotely satisfied.

All she felt was anger.

"What is wrong with you!?" she screamed, hopping to her feet.

Faith had turned away from her, though, and stood again at the edge of the hollow, looking out over the sound towards the sparkling city lights. "I'm sorry, Celia. I needed to know your limits. I never wanted to erase you."

"And you thought I wanted to erase you!?" Celia shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

"Of course not. Pushing you along would have been much easier if you did," Faith said sorrowfully.

The pain and remorse in Faith's tone didn't even register to Celia, who found herself trembling uncontrollably with rage. Hardly even aware of her movements, her fingers closed tightly around her Lightning Rook pin.

A fierce bolt of lightning, greater than any Celia had conjured before, exploded forth. Strands of energy danced out erratically as the devastating bolt shot through the hollow, striking Faith directly in the back.

Then, as if that one psych had drained everything she had to give, Celia slumped to the floor, her anger spent. "Why, Faith?" she whispered pleadingly.

She knew that Faith hadn't truly been trying to erase her. She knew, too, that there had be a reason behind Faith's seemingly incoherent actions, a reason beyond abject cruelty. She just couldn't fathom why he was so determined to leave her in the dark, and why he had made every possible effort to crush her spirits.

"The Game is over, isn't it?" Celia pleaded, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet. "Please, Faith… tell me why." Her eyes settled upon Faith, who still stood unflinchingly at the edge of the hollow. He hadn't moved an inch since he had been struck, nor spoken a word.

Then Celia saw the Space Needle, lit up and standing tall in the distance, peering back at her through the scorched hole she had blasted through Faith's chest.

Celia stared, frozen in disbelief, her eyes widening in horror.

Ever so slowly, Faith turned to face her, acceptance and serenity shining out of his eyes.

"No… no, Faith… no…" Celia whispered, her whole body going numb.

"I can… I can live with this," Faith whispered, as if he were speaking to himself.

Celia shook her head wordlessly. Her throat felt swollen, and she could hardly breathe, let alone give voice to her words.

Golden chains of light appeared around Faith and Celia. Then the chains shattered, and Celia felt her partner's presence leaving her.

Panicked, Celia raced forward, reaching Faith just as he collapsed to his knees.

Faith looked up, meeting Celia's gaze. Then he smiled warmly, and Celia could see the relief in his eyes, relief that brought her no comfort whatsoever. Only then did she find her voice once more. "No! Faith! Stay with me, Faith!" she pleaded.

"It's going to be alright. I promise, C. Everything's going to be alright," Faith whispered.

Wings sprouted from Faith's back, gradually spreading wide. His wings weren't the spiky black wings of a Reaper. Rather, they were comprised of elegant feathers of ice, delicate quills much like the one he had once left upon a memorial at the street side for a departed friend.

Then Faith's wings shattered, and Celia found herself lost amidst a flurry of gentle snow. The storm grew thicker and thicker until her world was fully blanketed in darkness.

* * *

 _Don't you dare try and pull me into your world,_

 _I have myself to follow,_

 _That's who I choose to live for,_

 _I'm not here to be perfect and pretty,_

 _I'd rather be the villain,_

 _As long as I know it's right…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Tatakai, Beat's theme from the iOS remake.**


	11. Adjudication: Of Rhyme and Reason

**~ Adjudication ~**

 **Of Rhyme and Reason**

* * *

 _Wake up, leave your hesitation,_

 _Wake up, time for us to realize,_

 _Wake up, show appreciation,_

 _Wake up, time for us to realize…_

* * *

 _"Celia?"_

 _Celia stirred at the sound of her name, for it was not a voice she was accustomed to hearing first thing in the morning._

 _"C'mon, C. Wake up," the voice came again, more insistently this time._

 _"Faith?" Celia murmured sleepily._

 _Faith smiled, his eyes twinkling with relief and amusement. "You must be pretty busy. I never thought I'd find you sleeping here," he remarked._

 _Celia looked around, finding her surroundings vaguely familiar. "Where are we?" she asked quietly._

 _"Where are we?" Faith echoed dubiously. His smile disappeared, replaced by a worried expression. "Are you sure you're alright, Celia? I mean, we've only met up here, what, a dozen times in the past three weeks?"_

 _"Of course," Celia whispered, recognizing the green logo painted on the window. She shook her head, trying to shake off her dazed stupor. "It was all just a dream. Just a stupid dream."_

 _Faith sat down beside her. "You look tired, C. Maybe you should go home and get some sleep," he suggested. "Just tell your client you couldn't make it, and ask to meet up another day instead."_

 _Celia couldn't remember any client, and when she glanced at her computer bag, she saw immediately that it was devoid of any prints or other physical goods. "No, I wasn't here to meet anyone," she said quickly. "Well, anyone other than you."_

 _"Then I can come see you another day, then," Faith offered. "You still have my number, right? Just shoot me a text next time you're here. Don't beat yourself up like this."_

 _"I'm fine," Celia murmured. "It was just a dream."_

 _"A dream?" Faith asked curiously. He studied her expression, and then smiled sympathetically. "A bad one, huh?"_

 _Celia chuckled. "Was I that obvious?" she asked._

 _"Just a little," Faith winked. "Anyhow, I really should quit bothering you if you're feeling under the weather. You want me to drive you home?"_

 _Celia shook her head, then leaned back in her chair._

 _"Do you want to talk about it, then?" Faith offered._

 _Reapers. Noise. The Underground. Blake Daniels. The Conductor. Each vivid image flashed through Celia's mind, too real to be simply a dream, but too surreal to be true. Was there even a Blake Daniels? Or had she made up the name on her own? And what of all the others she had met in the Game? She could see each of their faces as clearly as if she had just left their side._

 _"You were there," Celia finally blurted._

 _"Me?" Faith asked, puzzled._

 _Celia nodded numbly. "You were… some sort of demon," Celia whispered. "I died, just like everyone else. Blake, Graham, Jason, Laura, Vivian… even Selena and Dennis. We were all dead, and you were the Reaper who came for us."_

 _"Me? The Reaper?" Faith smiled faintly._

 _"Never mind. I'm just being silly," Celia said, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "It was a dream. That's all."_

 _"No worries," Faith said, trying to reassure her. "If it makes you feel better, I'm definitely not a demon. Or at least, I wasn't the last time I checked."_

 _"I know," Celia said, laughing lightly._

 _"Of course you know. You saw my wings, didn't you?" Faith asked._

 _Celia's laughter died in her throat, as Faith's crystallized, frozen wings spread wide._

 _"You saw them, remember? Right after you killed me?" Faith said contentedly._

 _"No," Celia whispered. "It wasn't real. It was a dream. This is a dream."_

 _"Were they the wings of a demon? The wings of a Reaper?" Faith asked, continuing to smile as if everything in the world were right._

 _"No," Celia murmured. "No, please…"_

* * *

"NO!" Celia cried aloud, sitting bolt upright.

"It's okay. You're fine, Celia. It was just a dream," Blake said soothingly. "Come on, settle down. Everything's alright."

Celia took a deep breath, then looked around, recognizing the room she had been taken right before the Game began. The sun peeked through the eastern window, resting high up in the sky, casting a soft, warm glow into the room. There were no remaining signs of the Game Master's fierce winter storm.

The Game Master.

Faith.

Celia slumped backwards, lying down to the carpeted floor once more as images of her friend's final moments assailed her. She saw again the jagged wound her lightning bolt had inflicted and every last scorched, frayed thread of Faith's torn shirt. She saw again Faith's frozen wings, the same wings that had shielded her from the wrath of the Conductor's Noise, the same wings that had shielded her from Faith's own Noise form.

"Finally," Blake was muttering. "I've been trying to wake you forever." Then he saw that Celia had laid back down. "Hey, Celia. You alright?"

"Oh, just let her rest," Laura interrupted. "That last mission was brutal."

"I guess," Blake conceded. He shot Celia another worried glance. "At least the Game's over. Cheer up, Celia. I'm sure Faith's already on his way…" Blake began.

At the sound of Faith's name spoken aloud, Celia's eyes grew moist with unshed tears.

"Hey, come on, don't cry," Blake pleaded, suddenly at a loss for words.

Vivian moved past Blake and knelt down gently at Celia's side, putting a comforting hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "You're safe, Celia. The Game is over," Vivian said soothingly.

"Cheer up. We'll all be alive soon," Laura said brightly. "Hey, Blake told us the Game Master's your friend. He'll be glad to see you safe, too, right? Though I bet he has some explaining to do…"

Another pang stabbed at Celia. "Gone," she whispered.

"Gone?" Vivian asked blankly.

Celia sat up and looked at Blake, knowing that if anyone could possibly understand her at that moment, he would.

"What happened, Celia?" Blake asked in a hushed tone, unnerved by the haunted look in his former partner's eyes.

"He's gone," Celia whispered. "I… I killed him."

Blake stared at her for several seconds, not quite comprehending her words at first. "What? You couldn't have. I wasn't there with you, remember? And even if I had been there, you saw how powerful he was. He could've erased all of us Players at the same time with both arms tied behind his back."

"Our timers ran out," Laura added reassuringly. "Vivian and I even held a little countdown party. One of the Reapers even turned up, the same one who brought us some warm clothing when we couldn't find any stores open."

"It was only a dream," Blake said patiently. "We heard you shouting in your sleep, Celia. It was a nightmare, that's all. I'm sure Faith is fine. He'll show up any minute now, I bet."

Celia took a deep breath, steadying herself. "Blake, listen to me, please," she pleaded. "It wasn't a dream. He became my partner. Then he made me attack him."

"Calm down, Celia," Blake urged. "You're not making any sense. He made you attack him, after running away from us? He became your partner? Players and Reapers can't become partners, can they?"

"She partnered up with the Game Master before, didn't she?" Laura pointed out. "On the day we had to fight those strange black Noise.

Blake grimaced. "Right. I guess it's possible, then, but our timers ran out, didn't they?" he asked in a pleading manner.

"I… I couldn't defeat him," Celia tried to explain. "He was holding back the entire time, and still, I couldn't… he won. Then the Game was over, and he stopped attacking, and…" She swallowed painfully, trying not to remember the exhilarating surge of power she had felt, and the drained feeling that had come over her after activating her psych. "I killed him," she whispered.

Blake eyed Celia silently, finally beginning to believe her words. "Then… he must have meant for it to happen," he reasoned quietly. "He must have wanted you to erase him. He wanted you to erase him, to become the winner of this game."

"To become the winner?" Laura interrupted curiously. "Aren't we all winners? We survived, right?"

Not wanting to be the one to crush the other Players' hopes, Blake ignored Laura's question. "Celia, you were right to trust Faith," Blake said, becoming more confident in his guess. "He really was looking out for you. He could've erased us countless times, but instead he let you erase him, just so you could be alive again."

Blake's theory made sense to Celia, and if anything, that only made the guilt she felt ten times worse. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, curling herself up against her knees, rocking gently as she tried her best to distance herself from the world.

"Blake, what are you talking about?" Vivian asked insistently, sensing that something was wrong. "What did you mean by the winner of this game?"

"I… uh… I can't…" Blake stammered uncomfortably. "I don't know for sure, either, but Graham, I mean… look, you'll see. I think."

Laura and Vivian both stared at him suspiciously, but the tongue-tied teen was spared further interrogation by the sound of the room's door opening.

Two men entered the room. One was Sho Minamimoto, the Conductor, dressed in his favorite black coat and jeans and wearing a sulky expression. The other man was hardly visible, for a supernatural light obscured his figure, blurring most of his features. His hair and clothing were all of the purest white hue imaginable, and though his silhouette seemed roughly humanoid, even his height was hard to pin down.

"Alright, you brain-dead binomials," the Conductor began, without any introduction. "This game's over, and the Composer has his desired solution. Now, before we move to the next step, there's a few theorems we have to…"

"Minamimoto-san," the man in white interrupted in a calm, yet firm tone. His voice was high and cold, seeming something less than human, yet at the same time, something much, much more.

The Conductor sighed. "Of the sixty Players participating in this game, only the seven of you have survived. Congratulations. However, by the Composer's decree, only one victor will be returned to life."

"W-What!?" Laura gasped.

"Only one?" another player exclaimed in horror. "What happens to the rest of us?"

"That's not fair! We were told we would all get a second chance!" Vivian protested.

"You zetta sons of digits have no voice here," the Conductor growled fiercely. "The Composer's word is the only constant!"

"Minamimoto-san!" the man in white interrupted sharply.

The Conductor rolled his eyes in disgust. "If you factoring hectopascals have a problem with the Composer's rules, take it up with the big number yourself," Minamimoto offered wryly, gesturing towards the radiant man standing beside him. "Now, then, regarding your fates. Blake Daniels, step forward."

Blake tensed up and glanced nervously at Celia. "Why?" he asked.

"Zetta slow," Minamimoto groaned. "The Composer has chosen you, you worthless zero. You will accompany him from this room, and your life will be returned to you.

Blake shook his head. "No way," he refused, gesturing towards Celia. "She should be the one to go back, not me. Forget about me. Give her back her life."

"You insignificant yoctogram, you have no value here!" Minamimoto hissed.

Blake ignored the Conductor, turning his pleading look to the Composer instead.

The Composer beckoned, and Blake found himself moving forward automatically. "Stop!" he protested, beads of sweat dripping down his face as he tried to resist the Composer's will. But the teen's body refused to obey him, and soon he stood at the Composer's side.

"What will happen to the rest of us?" Laura asked despairingly.

"There are three possible solutions," Minamimoto replied. "You incompletes can embrace your inner nothingness and accept erasure. You may play the Game again and let us erase you there instead. Or you may live again as a Reaper."

"You want us to become Reapers?" Vivian murmured.

"Those are your choices," Minamimoto said indifferently. Then he glanced over at Celia and smiled wickedly. "Except for that tasteless dodecahedron. She's made a few too many deviations from our rules. Erasing two of our Reapers, partnering with the Game Master, and fighting on after the Game's end? She'll be zetta done once the Composer's through with her," he cackled.

"What!? No!" Blake protested, though his body still felt thoroughly petrified. "You can't! None of that was her fault!"

"Urusai!" the Composer interrupted loudly.

"That means shut up," Minamimoto translated for Blake with a wink.

But the Composer didn't seem to be paying Blake any attention, and had turned to face Minamimoto directly.

Minamimoto sighed. "Hai, Shinjin-sama!" he said in a sickly sweet voice, bowing with mock deference.

Even beneath the veil of light, it seemed as if the Composer was shaking his head in frustration.

A door materialized behind the Composer, appearing so quickly that it seemed as if it had always been there. He opened the door, grasping Blake with his free hand.

Then he seemed to think better of it, and he turned around once more, stepping forward lightly until he was standing at Celia's side.

Celia looked up at him unflinchingly.

The Composer reached towards her, and only then did Celia realized she was still wearing Faith's coat. It didn't even occur to her to pull away as the Composer gently pulled the coat off of her, extracting a pin from one of the coat's inner pockets.

A sphere of ice formed around Celia, leaving her trapped.

The other Players burst into protest, Blake's voice loudest among them, but the Composer seemed indifferent to their complaints. He made his way back to the doorway, seizing Blake's wrist. "Yakusoku no nai asu dearouto, kimi no tatsu basho ni kanarazu mai modorou," he announced, his quiet voice carrying loudly over the other Players.

Then the Composer disappeared through the door, and with one final, fleeting look back, Blake followed suit.

"Alright. Which will it be?" Minamimoto asked, moving up to Laura, the closest player. "Erasure, the Game, or the Reapers?"

* * *

Soon, Celia and Minamimoto were the only two who remained in the room. The Conductor had approached each of the Players in turn. All five of them had elected to become Reapers, and when Jason, the last of the five Players to be approached, made his choice known, they had all promptly disappeared.

Minamimoto stared at the last remaining Player appraisingly, and Celia could see the malice in his eyes. She knew the Conductor was trying to decide how best to torment her further. She knew, and she didn't care.

But when Minamimoto opened his mouth to speak, another voice cut in.

"That's enough, Minamimoto."

The shock of hearing that voice finally brought Celia out of her stupor. Standing behind Minamimoto was none other than Hanekoma.

The middle-aged Japanese man looked exactly as Celia remembered him, with his white collared shirt and plain black vest. "Hey there, Snowflake," he greeted, before turning to the Conductor with a stern look in his eyes.

"An inverse matrix," Minamimoto muttered, shaking his head in dismay. "What are you doing here?"

"Start walking, Minamimoto. Your work's done for the day," Hanekoma said, offering no answers.

Minamimoto glared at Hanekoma challengingly, but seemed genuinely afraid. Finally, with a scowl, the Conductor turned and stormed from the room.

"Hanekoma, what are you doing here?" Celia asked, stunned.

"You didn't look too happy, so I thought I'd drop by and try to keep that troublemaker in line," Hanekoma shrugged. With a simple wave, he dismissed the barrier imprisoning Celia. "You've probably got a million questions for me, but this isn't really the place, you know? Let's go sit down somewhere a little more comfortable."

"But what about the Composer?" Celia asked. She looked towards the door the Composer and Blake had disappeared into, only to find that the door had vanished, too.

"He'll be along when he's good and ready. I'd say you spooked him a little with your earlier display," Hanekoma winked. "Come along, now."

There was flash of light, and Celia found herself and Hanekoma standing in an unfamiliar alleyway. Celia knew at once that they were no longer in Seattle, for it was dark out, and the nearby buildings seemed noticeably different than the old-fashioned homes and towering skyscrapers that she knew.

A giant mural in a distinctive graffiti style covered the wall in front of her, bearing thousands of unique designs. There were images of people, of animals, of places, and of all sorts of miscellaneous things. Every piece of the mural seemed to shout out to Celia, telling a different story, but they all shared one distinctive style.

"It's beautiful," Celia whispered, awed. Somehow, the sight of that mural was enough to dull the pain she felt. For the first time in days, she felt truly at ease.

"Why, thank you," Hanekoma said, smiling faintly.

Somehow, it didn't surprise Celia to learn that Hanekoma was the artist behind the masterpiece before her. What did surprise her was that she recognized a small portion of it. "That cat…" Celia whispered, her eyes settling upon an image of a teenaged woman holding onto a black stuffed animal.

"A cat? Most people assume it's a pig," Hanekoma remarked.

"I've seen it before," Celia whispered. "A friend of mine drew it for me. He said it was based off of something a friend of his drew, but I thought… I thought he just couldn't draw."

"That special friend you mentioned before?" Hanekoma asked curiously.

Only then did Celia think back to her first conversation with Hanekoma. "You knew about the Game already," she realized aloud. "When we met, you knew what I was. You recognized my pin, and the pin you gave me wasn't just a blank pin, either."

"Oh, I know the Reapers' Game quite well," Hanekoma confirmed.

"Who are you, Hanekoma?" Celia asked.

"You truly interested in an old man like me?" Hanekoma grinned. "Alright, I'll tell you a little. The name's Sanae Hanekoma. Born March 3rd, blood type A. I'm a Pisces, and one hip café barista. I'm a big gambler. My favorite word…"

"I mean, what's your part in the Reapers' Game?" Celia interrupted.

"I don't have one, at least not in the game you played," Hanekoma said. "Shibuya has its own Underground. Here, I'm sort of a guardian. I watch the Game, to make sure shady types don't start bending the rules."

"You're like Michael, aren't you?" Celia guessed. "He's the friend you went to Seattle to visit."

"Who?" Hanekoma asked, puzzled.

"Michael Ariel. He called himself the same thing: a guardian. He said he was a Producer," Celia remembered. "That's what you are. You're the Producer here, aren't you?"

Hanekoma chuckled. "You should be careful about using that title. Players aren't supposed to know about the Producers, Snowflake. Neither are Reapers, for that matter. I guess it's no surprise that you know, though, given the circumstances."

It was Celia's turn to look puzzled.

"This way, Snowflake. We can talk while we walk," Hanekoma said, leading the way down the alley. "I've never met Seattle's Producer. I've seen some of his work, though. Just between you and me, I wasn't all that impressed. You, on the other hand… you're packing some serious Imagination, Snowflake."

"Um… thanks?" Celia said uncertainly, unsure as to whether she had just been complimented or insulted. "Where are we going?"

"To my café. Dawn's still a few hours off, so it'll be a nice, quiet place for us to sit down and talk," Hanekoma explained.

"Hanekoma, I don't understand," Celia apologized. "You really do own a café? But you're an artist, too; how did you ever find time to create that mural? And you're a Producer on top of all that, too? What is a Producer, anyways?"

"Well, it's like this," Hanekoma began. "Every Underground is led by three people: a Composer, a Conductor, and a Producer. The Composer is the one who defines the Underground itself. The Conductor is a Reaper chosen to serve the Composer, and to represent the Composer to the rest of the Reapers."

"And the Producer?" Celia prompted.

"The Producer is the Composer's partner," Hanekoma explained. "No one asides from the Composer, not even the Conductor, is supposed to know that the Producer exists. The Producer keeps an eye on the Game and the Underground as a whole. He also leaves a mark on the Game, the Underground, and the Realground through his work. Consider the mural I showed you, for example. I've placed two imprints upon it, not unlike what you, as a Player, could accomplish with your Player pin. My mural holds a special allure to individuals with strong Imagination, and bids them to live in and enjoy the moment. Shibuya's Composer and I firmly believe that to be necessary in building a better Shibuya, see?"

The two of them came to a small coffee shop, with a sign inscribed with both Japanese and English characters. "WildKat," Celia read curiously.

Hanekoma opened the unlock door, politely hold it open for Celia. "After you," he said.

The two of them stepped inside, and Hanekoma began busying himself with one of the machines behind the counter as Celia sat down at the nearest table.

"As a Player, you must have come across the Producer's work, even if you did not realize it at the time," Hanekoma said, continuing their conversation from before. "The Producer creates the Player pins as well as similar protective pins for the Reapers. He also supplies props for the Game itself to be used in its missions."

"Like the castle," Celia said with a nod, remembering the sixth day's mission and the incomplete sculpture Michael had left behind.

"Here," Hanekoma said, sliding a mug of coffee to her.

"Oh. Thanks, but I don't really drink coffee," Celia declined politely.

"Just try it," Hanekoma smiled. "It'll take the edge off your nerves." He filled a second mug, but rather than drinking from it, he set it upon the counter.

Reluctantly, Celia took a sip of her coffee. It was remarkably soothing, and just as Hanekoma had promised, she felt some of the tension leaving her.

Some, but not all.

"What's going to happen to me now, Hanekoma?" Celia asked quietly.

"That's up to you and the Composer," Hanekoma replied.

"How can it be up to me? The Conductor was right. I was breaking rules left and right," Celia whispered.

"Most of what Seattle's Conductor says is nonsense, anyways," Hanekoma said reassuringly. "Forget about him, and think about what you want."

In truth, Minamimoto's words had been the least of Celia's concerns. She stared into her swirling coffee, pondering the barista's question. Returning to life seemed less appealing than ever, and certainly nothing worth enduring the life of a Reaper for. In comparison, erasure seemed to be a far kinder fate.

The door to the coffee shop swung open, and Seattle's Composer, the white-clad man obscured by his own radiance, stepped into the shop. He seemed to glance in Celia's direction, then turned towards Hanekoma.

"Konnichiwa, Sora-san," Hanekoma greeted brightly.

"Hanekoma-sama. Arigatou gozaimasu," the Composer said, bowing deeply. He seated himself at the counter, catching the remaining mug of coffee as Hanekoma slid it across the counter.

Celia felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she watched the two men converse quietly in rapid Japanese. At the same time, though neither of the two seemed to be paying her any attention, she somehow knew that they had not forgotten about her.

Hanekoma confirmed that thought a second later. "You know, Sky, I appreciate the effort you've made to speak to me in my own tongue, but we should probably continue this conversation in your language. I'm sure our guest would appreciate it, too," he said. "And while you're at it, you may as well take off the mask. If there's anyone left in the world who you can truly be honest with, I'd say it's the two of us in this room right now."

"Modest, isn't he?" the Composer remarked wryly, turning to Celia and gesturing at their host.

Though the Composer's voice remained as inhuman and otherworldly as it had been when he was speaking in Japanese, Celia found it keenly familiar this time. She froze, hardly daring to believe what she thought she had heard.

The light surrounding the Composer faded away. Underneath, his clothing changed, too.

Then it was no longer a mysterious man dressed in white sitting at the counter, but Faith.

"The mask, too," Hanekoma insisted sternly. "You may as well be honest with her, and yourself for that matter."

Faith took another sip of coffee. Then he breathed in deeply, and Celia understood what Hanekoma had meant by mask. Faith's confident, unshakeable demeanor crumbled away. Instead, the man sitting at the counter was the man she once knew from the coffee shop in Seattle. A man who, by his defeated and weary expression, had just spent a week living in hell.

"Faith," Celia whispered, rising to her feet and slowly approaching him.

Faith set his coffee down and stood, facing her evenly. A sad sort of smile came across him. "Hello, Celia," he said, and there was the slightest hint of fear in his eyes. Then he gasped in surprise as Celia crossed the last few steps between them in a hurry, embracing him tightly.

"You know, I was really expecting you to hit me or something," Faith said thoughtfully.

Laughing and crying at the same time, Celia reluctantly pulled herself away. "I thought you were dead," she whispered tearfully. "I thought I killed you."

Faith seemed quite embarrassed. "Even if you had killed me, it wouldn't have been your fault," he said quickly. "I'm the one who pushed you into throwing that bolt, after all."

Celia's face screwed up in confusion.

"I needed to see how powerful your Imagination really was," Faith explained hesitantly. "Imagination is the power of your Soul. In the Realground, it's what drives you to create, and what helps you give meaning to what you create. In the Underground, Imagination lets you power your psychs. I knew you weren't using all of your power against me, so I had to give you a little nudge."

"A little nudge?" Celia echoed.

"Up until that moment, I had been containing my own negativity," Faith said with a grimace. "The pact between us was unnaturally strong, and I didn't want to risk my own frustration and bitterness influencing you, too. At the end of the Game, I let you see all of those emotions at once."

Celia looked at him in horror.

"It's not what you think," Faith said quickly. "I didn't actually want you to erase me. You're a remarkably calm person, and I knew that you would restrain yourself quickly. I was confident that you wouldn't be able to destroy me in that short burst of anger. You got much closer than I thought, but I have no one to blame for that than myself."

"I… I don't understand," Celia said, shaking her head. "You were playing games with your own life, too? How could you do such a thing?"

"You can call it a game if you'd like, but it was more serious than anything else I've ever done in my life," Faith assured her. "But that's not really the best place to start." He sat down at the table Celia had been sitting at earlier, beckoning for her to take the seat across him.

"To start?" Celia asked, more confused than ever, obediently seating herself once more.

"I promised you answers, right?" Faith said, smiling sadly. "No more riddles, no more half-truths, as soon as I figure out where to begin."

"Could you start with who you really are?" Celia asked, though in truth, she dreaded the answer. "Faith isn't your real name, is it? Hanekoma called you something Sky just now, didn't he? And I think the Conductor called you something else earlier, too."

"Mr. H likes his little nicknames," Faith chuckled, glancing at Hanekoma. "But I suppose my name is as good a place as any to start. I don't believe Faith was the name I was born with, but it's the closest thing I have to a real name."

"You don't _believe_ that was the name you were born with?" Celia asked dubiously.

"Do you remember when I told you about how I took a vacation to Japan, and ended up staying?" Faith asked.

"Of course," Celia said.

"I was in school at the time. Probably the University of Washington, since I still remember bits and pieces of Seattle from that time, but I'm not really sure. There was some sort of accident, and I lost my family," Faith said. "I know, I'm not being very specific," he admitted, when he saw the expression on Celia's face. "But there's a reason for that."

"A perfectly reasonable reason," Hanekoma offered with a knowing smile.

"I visited Japan in an effort to get away from everything I knew," Faith went on. "I picked up a bit of Japanese in school, just enough to convince me that visiting Japan wasn't a horrible idea, but not enough to actually do anything useful. My terrible luck followed me here. There was a major accident on one of the main roads here in Shibuya, involving a bus, three passenger vehicles, and over a dozen pedestrians. Nearly twenty people were killed in the accident. I was one of nearly twice that many who were rushed to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. I sustained a severe concussion and permanent brain damage that day, leaving any of my memories from before the accident in shambles. I lingered on for three days longer before passing away."

"And you woke up in the Reapers' Game," Celia guessed.

Faith nodded. "I had nothing left but a few scattered fragments of memories. The Reapers took that, too, as my entry fee," Faith said. "I didn't particularly care about the Game. Living, dying, it was all the same to me at the time. I ended up partnering with a former Reaper who no one else could stand: Sho Minamimoto. He got thrown into the game for crimes against Shibuya's Underground. We drifted through the game aimlessly, watching the other Players play, for the most part. That's when I got my name."

Faith smiled wistfully, as if he were thinking of better, simpler times.

"Japan's an interesting place. It has a beautiful, rich culture and a wonderfully diverse population. But there's a darker side to it, too. Xenophobia is surprisingly common here, and some of the Reapers took a particular disliking to me. They gave me the ironic nickname Shinjin, the Japanese word for faith or belief, of which I had neither," Faith said. "Not long after, I met Mr. H. He was a bit blunter, calling me Sky. Sora, in Japanese, which can also mean emptiness."

"I thought it was appropriate," Hanekoma chuckled.

"At the same time, Mr. H was the one who convinced me not to give up," Faith continued. "Do you still remember your words to me that day, Mr. H?"

"Sure do," Hanekoma grinned. Then he straightened, as if doing a serious impression of himself. "Listen up, Sky. The world ends with you. If there's truly nothing for you, either in your past or future, you can only expand your world. You're just going to have to push your horizons out as far as they'll go."

"Those words exactly," Faith grinned. "Nonspecific advice, right? Is that just so you can give it to anyone and everyone, whether or not they ask?"

"You've got me there," Hanekoma laughed.

"Anyways," Faith said, turning back to Celia. "Mr. H gave me a pin that day, too, one that I've been wearing ever since." Faith reached into one of his pockets, extracting a red pin emblazoned with a black pattern that vaguely resembled a skull. He held it out to Celia, who accepted it curiously.

Almost immediately, Celia heard the same voice that she had heard upon scanning Faith.

"To right the countless wrongs of our day, we shine this light of true redemption, that this place may become as paradise. What a wonderful world such would be…"

"What is it?" Celia asked curiously, handing the pin back to Faith.

"This is the final legacy of a great man," Faith said. "A Reaper who truly loved his people and city, who staked his very existence on the cause of making his world better. I suspect he ultimately lost, for little else remains of the man whose Soul was partially imprinted upon this pin. Nevertheless, he paid that price willingly to defend Shibuya, and Shibuya still stands today, beautiful and proud. That is what inspired me to become a Reaper. I had nothing left in life – no past to build upon, and no future to reach for – but here, in the Underground, I could play a part in making our world beautiful."

"So you survived the Game and became a Reaper," Celia said slowly. As she spoke, she thought of something else, of Faith's words to her in her dream. "But you aren't a Reaper, are you? I saw your wings."

"You're right. I am no longer a Reaper," Faith confirmed. "I spent several years here as a Reaper in Shibuya's game. Then I was sent home to Seattle to restore the Underground there."

"Restore? What happened to it?" Celia asked.

"I don't know," Faith admitted. "Maybe the former Composer abandoned it, or maybe something happened in Seattle to cause the Underground's collapse. Or maybe there was never an Underground there to begin with. I don't think it's likely, but it's possible. Regardless, I was sent there to be the new Composer, and in doing so, I went through a process we call Ascension."

"What's Ascension?" Celia frowned.

This time, it was Hanekoma who answered. "Humans belong in the Realground, while Players belong in the Underground. These are two different planes that exist side by side, sharing the same space. Noise exist somewhere in between the two, while Reapers belong to both planes, capable of shifting between the two as necessary," he began. "But there's a higher plane, too. Reapers with sufficient Imagination may eventually undergo Ascension, becoming Angels, entities belonging to this higher plane."

Celia's eyes went wide with shock. "A-Are you saying Faith's an Angel?" she asked.

"Yes, but Angels aren't really what you think they are," Faith said quickly.

"Most Producers, and all Composers are Angels," Hanekoma explained. "It gives us more freedom to exert our Imaginations on the lower planes. Becoming a Composer is the most common form of Ascension."

"You would speak of the Producers?" Faith interrupted warningly. "You have yet to shake the title or stigma from your first offense."

"Then what's the harm in adding another?" Hanekoma laughed. "Besides, Snowflake here knew of the Producers already, and with good reason."

Celia found herself slightly intimidated when she next looked upon her friend. "Okay… I think I understand," she said. "But if you're an Angel, and the Composer, why were you also the Game Master?"

"Because the new Seattle Underground hasn't developed sufficiently to sustain ordinary games," Faith explained. "All I had was myself, the Angel assigned to me as my Producer, and a handful of Reapers that the Composer of Shibuya agreed to lend me. I decided that the Conductor, Producer, and I would each administer a single instance of the Game. The rules would be relaxed in favor of the Players, which would make it easier to recruit some Reapers native to Seattle. Easier, but expensive."

"Expensive? What do you mean?" Celia frowned.

"Why don't you tell me? What do you think the purpose of the Reapers' Game is?" Faith asked.

Celia mulled the question over for several long moments before answering. "I think… I think the purpose is to look at the people who've died, and measure how much good they can do if given another chance to live."

"Precisely," Faith agreed. "The Reapers' Game isn't about preventing undeserved deaths. Most deaths in our world are undeserved, at least from a perspective of life. The truth is, death isn't something horrible or evil. Death adds a contrast to life that guides people to find meaning, and death is part of the cycle where weary and tired Soul can be broken down and reforged into something new and refreshing. Death is crucial to life, and every time we grant a victor resurrection, every time we reweave reality to bring someone back to life in a nondestructive manner, we are tarnishing the integrity of both life and death. The same usually holds true for creating Reapers. Once in a while, a Reaper can be given a wholly new life and identity in the Realground, but more often than not, creating a Reaper calls for a sort of resurrection, too."

"There were seven of us who survived the Game," Celia remembered. "Blake was supposed to be resurrected, and the other five chose to become Reapers."

"So that's six deaths so far that have to be undone, and all the strands of reality over the past week rewoven to make that possible," Faith said, smiling faintly. "Going against the natural flow of life is extremely messy, even if you disregard the paperwork."

At the mention of paperwork, Celia couldn't help but laugh.

"But speaking of the others, there's something else I must apologize to you for, Celia," Faith said. "Your partner, Blake Daniels, should not have been this game's winner."

"Really?" Celia asked, surprised.

"Your Imagination is far more powerful than his is, and your potential so much greater," Faith explained. "Blake Daniels was declared the winner for one reason alone: he was killed by the Composer. In trying to save your life, I accidentally took the life of another, which no Composer is supposed to do. As a result, in order to defend my Underground's stability, I granted Blake a handicap before the game began. If he survived, he would be the one to be granted resurrection, regardless of his performance during the Game. Since you chose him as your partner, your chance of receiving true resurrection was essentially nonexistent."

"Well, resurrecting him wasn't a terrible decision," Celia said thoughtfully. "Blake changed a lot during the game. He really became a much better person."

"But will he stay a better person?" Faith said doubtfully. "His entry fee was his skill at his favorite game."

"Huh? But he said he wasn't very good at… oh," Celia understood.

"Exactly," Faith said. "He was on the verge of achieving his dreams of becoming a professional gamer. He cherished that hope so greatly that he was willing to push away everything else in his life. It took great effort and sacrifice for him to reach where he was. When I took that away from him, he could finally reevaluate the price he had paid. What do you think he'll do when he finds his misguided dreams within easy reach once more?"

"I think he'll know better this time," Celia said confidently. "Isn't that part of the Game, too? For us to learn about ourselves and grow? He lost his entry fee to gain perspective, but he doesn't have to lose perspective to regain his entry fee."

"True," Faith agreed. "It's all possible."

"Hey, um… Faith? What was my entry fee?" Celia asked.

"And so we've come to the first question that I cannot answer," Faith said with a grin.

"Huh? But the Composer chooses the entry fees, I thought," Celia said.

"Technically, the Conductor is supposed to," Faith corrected. "However, Minamimoto was never truly fit for that kind of responsibility. Honestly, I'm pretty sure Shibuya's Composer sent my former partner back to me as a prank. He knows Minamimoto and I don't get along. After Minamimoto thoroughly botched his first Game, erasing nearly every Player involved, the Producer and I agreed to divvy up most of the Conductor's duties."

"Oh," Celia said.

"I handpicked most of the entry fees, but…" Faith began, trailing off in search of the right words. "Okay, this might sound stupid, but I couldn't bring myself to invade your thoughts," he finally admitted. "I asked Ariel to choose your entry fee instead."

Faith reached into his coat for a sealed envelope, which he handed to Celia. "I found this letter for you among Ariel's belongings, after he was erased by Minamimoto. He assured me that he could defeat Minamimoto, but when I found this, I realized that he must have understood that losing was a real possibility. Of course, since Ariel was holding onto your entry fee, it should have been returned to you upon his erasure in the middle of the game. If you didn't notice it being returned, maybe this letter will clear things up for you."

Celia opened the envelope carefully and began silently reading the letter.

* * *

 _Dear Miss Celia Winter,_

 _I am confident that this letter will find you at the appropriate time. When it does, several key, foreseeable events will have occurred._

 _Firstly, I will have been defeated by Sho Minamimoto, the temporary Conductor of the Seattle Underground._

 _Secondly, you will have faced the trials of Taboo Noise, likely exacerbated by my premeditated failure._

 _Following said trials, you will have been reunited with your friend, the Game Master._

 _Finally, you will have survived the Reapers' Game, and this letter will be delivered to you by either the Game Master or the Composer himself._

 _They are, of course, one and the same. If he has not revealed that truth to you yet, I implore you to demand it of him. He will not refuse you._

 _I am writing this letter to you mostly to apologize regarding the matter of your entry fee. The fee that I chose was your innocence regarding your newest, yet closest, friend. I firmly believe that in condemning you to face Faith Hollow, I have already taken all that I can from you._

 _My regret is that this entry fee is fully non-refundable. By its end, the Reapers' Game will have irreversibly changed you. Many new roads await you, but the road leading back will be forever closed. For this, I humbly apologize, and can only wish you the best in finding yourself a brighter future._

 _I would also like you to understand that when I revealed my identity to you, it was no accident. Revealing even the existence of the Producers to a Player is a grievous crime, and under any ordinary circumstances, I would have paid a hefty price for my indiscretion. However, I am confident that I will be exonerated, likely without even a true inquiry. Your Imagination has not – and indeed, cannot – go unnoticed._

 _That leaves only one final matter to address. You are a kind and understanding person, and I imagine you have begun to appreciate the difficult position your dear friend was placed in. Any anger you may feel towards him is fully justified and understandable. I only ask that you not be too harsh on my former partner. A great weight rests upon his shoulders, and with my departure, he must now bear it alone… unless, of course, you choose to stand by him._

 _Thank you, Miss Winter, and may the light above smile upon you._

 _Sincerely yours,_

 _Michael Ariel_

 _Producer of the Seattle Underground_

* * *

Celia read the letter a second time over, and then a third time. Then she offered the letter to Faith.

"It's for you, isn't it?" Faith asked without reaching for the letter.

"Aren't you curious about what it says?" Celia asked. "He mentions you a few times."

Faith shrugged. "I suspect his words were for your eyes, and your eyes alone. If you want to tell me what they said, I'll listen, but I won't pry," he replied. "Did it answer your question, at least?"

"I think so," Celia said, folding up the letter and sliding it into her pocket.

"Then, unless you have any other questions for me, it's time for you to make your decision," Faith said. He spoke reluctantly, as if he wasn't pleased at all with what was to come.

"Sure," Celia agreed. "I have to decide between being erased, playing the Game again, or becoming a Reaper, right?"

"Those are the normal three options, yes," Faith said. "If it helps you decide at all, I am fairly confident that the Reapers' Game will not break you. If you want to live again, free of the Underground, do not be afraid of the playing the Game again."

"There is, of course, another option available to you," Hanekoma interrupted.

"Yes, I was getting to that," Faith said impatiently.

"Another option? What's that?" Celia asked.

In answer, Faith reached down to his belt, drawing the handgun he had used to kill Blake. He slid the weapon gently across the table, and it came to a rest directly in front of Celia.

Celia glanced at the weapon, confused. "What's this for?"

Faith held his hands up over his head, assuming a defenseless posture. "One shot is all it will take," he said. "This is why I had to test you, Celia. As a Player or Reaper, you will always have to answer to the rhythms of others, but you have the Imagination to become something far greater. She who erases a Composer becomes Composer in his stead. Erase me, and the city of Seattle, both the Underground and Realground, will answer to your tune instead. Erase me, and I can be at peace, knowing that I've played my part and that my city will pass into hands more capable than my own."

"I think we've been over this before, Faith," Celia said, exasperated. "My answer hasn't changed. I'm not going to erase you, and if you mess with my head to make me do it, I won't forgive you this time."

"Please, Celia," Faith said quietly. "Think about it. This is your chance. When you speak, your voice will reach millions, and every person who hears you will take away something a little bit different. Something that will make their lives richer and more fulfilling. That's what you will be able to do as Composer. I accepted the name given to me when I found renewed faith in the world. Today, that faith rests within you."

"What about _my_ life, Faith?" Celia demanded fiercely. "I didn't play the Game so I could change the world. I played the Game because I wanted to find my way back to my friend, and now that I'm here with him, I am _not_ going to kill him. Not for my dreams, not even for the world, and certainly not for the job that's made you so miserable throughout this past week."

"I was miserable because I'm not cut out for this job, Celia," Faith said mournfully.

"That's not true, Sky," Hanekoma interrupted. "That's not true at all. This week made you miserable because you stood alone. You've always stood alone. You and Minamimoto never partners in anything but name. While you were a Reaper, you worked alone. I wasn't surprised in the slightest when you could not find yourself an adequate Producer; and even when one was assigned to you, you two were never truly partners."

"We were," Faith protested. "Ariel and I worked together whenever it counted. I even trusted him to battle Minamimoto alone, and look where that got me: Taboo Noise everywhere, an echo of Minamimoto, and an Underground that now lacks for a Producer."

"You allowed him to battle Minamimoto alone because you did not think it was your place to stop him," Hanekoma corrected. "You never expected him to succeed, did you? I doubt his work inspired any true confidence in you."

"Of course his work never inspired any confidence in me," Faith said, exasperated. "I became a Reaper under the tutelage of one of the most remarkable Producers to have ever existed. You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone whose work can truly impress me."

"Which is precisely my point," Hanekoma said in a heated tone. "When I spoke of another option, I was _not_ asking you to hand this young lady your gun! You said it yourself: your Underground now lacks for a Producer. Possibly more importantly than that, you need a true partner!"

"Hanekoma, are you saying that I can become a Producer?" Celia asked, hardly daring to believe the barista's words. "Faith's Producer?"

"No," Faith interrupted evenly, and Celia felt her hopes crumbling as fast as they had arisen.

"Why not, Faith?" Celia asked, feeling wounded. "Don't you think I'm capable of it?"

"Oh, I know you're capable of it," Faith said reassuringly. "But there's still three reasons I can't make you my Producer. Firstly, you're not an Angel. You're not even a Reaper, so Ascension is out of the question, at least for the foreseeable future."

"Producers do not necessarily have to be Angels," Hanekoma interrupted. "Producers are often chosen from Angels or Reapers ready to become Angels simply because Angels naturally have a wider scope of power. Snowflake here, on the other hand, has power to spare. Even as a Player, her Imagination is already sufficient to be a capable Producer."

"Secondly, Celia, you still have a chance to live again, and a chance to find yourself the life you're searching for in the Realground," Faith went on smoothly.

"Reapers find their lives in the Realground all the time," Hanekoma reminded.

"Finally," Faith continued, as if Hanekoma hadn't even spoken. "If I make you my Producer, I would also be trapping you in my Underground as my partner. I can't do that to you."

Celia looked at him incredulously. "T-Trapping me?" she stuttered, unsure of how he had possibly come to that conclusion.

"Don't you think I've thought of it before?" Faith said gently. "On the day we met, I felt your Imagination long before I approached you. At the time, I was only curious, but as I came to know you, I began to feel drawn to you."

"You felt drawn to her because the two of you are innately in sync," Hanekoma said. "Sometimes, two people just naturally mesh well with one another. It could be because their personalities are alike, or maybe it's a shared experience or too."

"I had quite a lot in common with Minamimoto," Faith reminded wryly. "If anything, that's what kept us at each other's throats."

"Similar interests and similar personalities, perhaps, but your outlooks were entirely different," Hanekoma corrected. "Minamimoto looks only inward for growth and beauty, while you are constantly searching the world around you for flaws to refine."

Faith shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. The point is, I already had a feeling that Celia could understand the Underground the way I do. I thought about asking her to be my Producer then, but decided against it; a Producer needs access to the Underground, and I wasn't willing to bring her here before her time."

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Celia pointed out.

"You're here, but you don't have to stay," Faith said. "And you certainly don't have to commit yourself to being my partner."

"But we've been partners before," Celia protested. "We worked great together, didn't we? We beat the Conductor's Noise together. We were able to use that pin Hanekoma gave me, too, the pin that Blake and I couldn't use even after spending an entire week partnered together."

"What did you just say?" Faith said sharply, his expression growing shockingly intense.

"About the Conductor's Noise?" Celia asked, bewildered.

"No, after that. The Harmonizer pin," Faith said. "You said Hanekoma gave you that pin. You mean this Hanekoma? Mr. H?" he asked, indicating Hanekoma.

"Umm… yeah. We met during the game, at the same Starbucks you and I always met in," Celia said cautiously. "Why?" She glanced at Hanekoma, and to her surprise, there was a trace of guilt in the barista's amicable smile.

Faith said nothing at first, closing his eyes as if he were concentrating hard on something. Then his eyes flickered open, and there was a dangerous glint in them.

"Faith, what is it?" Celia asked nervously.

Faith ignored her, speaking instead to Hanekoma. "Please, my old mentor," Faith said, in a soft and desperate tone. "Tell me it isn't true."

"Sorry, boss," Hanekoma said, his disarming smile unwavering. "Can't help you there."

Faith's eyes snapped open, and he suddenly stood. He rounded upon Hanekoma slowly, his eyes glinting murderously. "I should erase you for this, you know," he said conversationally, though his voice sounded strained.

Hanekoma didn't seem alarmed in the slightest. "Oh, undoubtedly," he agreed affably. "But before you do, since we're mainly here to attend to our lovely guest's curiosity, why don't you first explain to her what's going on?"

Faith glowered at the seemingly unshakeable barista. Then he nodded stiffly. "I suppose you're right," he conceded. He looked down at his own feet. "Celia, you have no idea how sorry I am about all of this," he said, pointedly avoiding her gaze.

"About all of what?" Celia asked, feeling thoroughly lost.

"That after being forced to play the Reapers' Game partnered with the man who stabbed you, you've found the misfortune to be here, talking with the two men truly responsible for your death," Faith continued, without looking up.

"What!? What are you talking about, Faith?" Celia demanded. She looked at Hanekoma, wondering if perhaps the older man had any insight to offer.

"He's lost me, too, Snowflake," Hanekoma said with a shrug.

"No, I haven't. You know full well what I'm talking about, Sanae Hanekoma," Faith growled. "Celia, on the morning of your death, one of the Reapers reported a large influx of Noise out east, in Redmond. Ariel was directing most of our operations outside of the Game. He led the Reapers, including me, out there to deal with the Noise. While we were tidying up, I traced the Noise back to what I thought was its source: a teenaged boy named Blake Daniels who had just departed for Seattle, thinking of you."

"That's how you knew I was in danger," Celia realized, remembering how Faith had been running towards her and Karen, shouting warnings. "But what does that have to do with…"

"Because I was wrong," Faith said coldly. "Blake Daniels wasn't the source of the Noise. He was just another victim. He was an emotionally unstable introvert with strong, negative feelings towards you, but he wasn't a murderer. Not until he was given a quiet nudge. Some Noise and a single imprint was all it took to send him scampering off to Seattle, his father's hunting knife in hand. Isn't that right, Mr. H?"

Celia turned to Hanekoma, a horrified look on her face. "You sent Blake to kill me?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Sure did, but I'm still waiting to hear why dear Sky wants to claim half the credit for it," Hanekoma said nonchalantly.

"Because this was never about her," Faith said. "This was about me. For the first time since the day I was brought to the Underground, there was someone I truly cared about. An individual, alive, who resided in the Realground. This was your chance to test me, to see if I could remain the cold, merciless, and impartial judge that a Composer is meant to be even while the life of someone I cared about was on the line."

"If this is meant to be a test, do you think it's over? Have you passed?" Hanekoma questioned.

Faith reached across the table, reclaiming his handgun. Celia winced, afraid that Hanekoma's question had pushed Faith over the edge.

But Faith simply holstered the firearm. "I don't particularly care if it's over, or whether I passed. I'm giving Celia back her life," he stated flatly.

"But Faith, I thought you said…" Celia tried to interrupt.

"I don't care what the rules say anymore," Faith said coolly. "I didn't set out to become an Angel or a Composer. I became a Reaper because here in the Underground, I found reason and order amidst the chaos. I became a Reaper to help create a better world… but this? This is an abomination. Disrupting the natural order of life… throwing innocent lives into disarray… threatening the stability of a new and already-unstable Underground… all for what? Because the ones up high never trusted their chosen Composer?"

To Celia's surprise, Hanekoma began to laugh delightedly. "A cold, merciless, impartial judge? Is that who really thought you were meant to be, Sky?" the barista asked, sounding amused. "If that's what the folks upstairs were after, they had thousands of Reapers to choose from. They chose you instead, a young Reaper who's owned his wings for less than a decade."

"Then why?" Faith demanded. "Why did they choose me?"

"Because most Reapers with the discipline and Imagination to become Composer have long since distanced themselves from their world," Hanekoma explained patiently. "You were an experiment, Sky. You had the potential to be something different. You wore the mask of a Reaper suited to become Composer and you wore it well, but it was only ever meant to be a mask. We never intended for it to define you."

"And now that I've taken it off, are you satisfied?" Faith asked wearily. Without bothering to wait for Hanekoma's answer, Faith turned back to Celia. "I'm sorry, Celia. I never meant to drag you into any of this," he apologized remorsefully.

"It's okay," Celia said quickly, finding that she wanted nothing more at that moment than to ease some of the guilt she saw in her friend's expression. Strangely, she didn't even feel any anger or resentment towards Hanekoma.

"I'll try to make things right for you, Celia," Faith promised. "Next time you fall asleep, you'll wake up in your home, safe and sound as if none of this had ever happened."

"But what will happen to you?" Celia asked, worried.

"Don't worry about Sky," Hanekoma assured. "It's finished. Minamimoto and the other Reapers we sent to Seattle should be returning here to Shibuya soon. Once Sky finds himself a new Conductor and Producer, his Underground will begin stabilizing."

"Then we'll see each other again soon, right?" Celia asked, rounding on Faith hopefully.

Faith remained silent.

"Faith?" Celia asked hesitantly.

Faith took a deep breath. "You have a choice to make, Celia," he said gravely. "You can't live a normal life knowing what you do now. You're going to have to forget about the Underground, the Reapers, and the Angels. None of this can follow you back to your life… and that includes me."

"What… what are you saying?" Celia whispered.

"When you wake up, Faith Hollow will have simply disappeared from your life," Faith explained, a sad look in his eyes. "I won't be able to visit you anymore, and you won't be able to reach me, no matter how hard you try. We won't meet again until you find your way to the Underground for real. If… if you would rather not remember me at all, I can grant you that. I can go further back, undoing the time we spent together, and you can live out your life as if you and I never met at all."

Celia stared at him, speechless.

"I can't be a part of your life any longer," Faith apologized, speaking as if each word was paining him. "But the Faith Hollow you once knew, you may remember him if you wish. The choice is yours."

"Then I choose to stay," Celia said, her voice soft but firm.

Faith looked at her blankly.

"Don't bring me back to life," Celia said. "Make me a Reaper. Let me stay in the Underground, with you, as your Producer."

"I can't…" Faith began, shaking his head.

"Please, Faith," Celia urged. "I don't want to go back to my old life. I don't want to spend the rest of my life telling those around me what they want to hear, or showing them what they want to see. I want to become a Producer, like Hanekoma, able to make a difference of my own, no matter how small."

"You can do that without becoming a Producer. You should have won the Game, Celia. You should have been given another chance to life a normal life, to lead those around you with your Imagination," Faith said. "And when your life eventually ends, you will still be welcome in the Underground. You can become a Reaper, or find a Composer to become Producer for, or become a Composer yourself. You would still be free to choose then."

"I want to be free to choose _now_ ," Celia insisted. "I want to stay with you, Faith. I want to be your partner. Please, let me."

Faith smiled faintly, and for a brief moment, Celia thought she had finally reached him.

"You must be delirious," Faith said. "I know how forgiving you can be, but I've simply put you through too much already." He shook his head slowly. "Thank you, Celia. You may forget me, but I won't forget you. I'll remember you, I promise."

Celia opened her mouth to protest, but her world suddenly grew hazy, and she felt her eyelids drooping.

"Goodbye, C."

* * *

"What will you do with her memories?" Hanekoma asked, watching as Celia slumbered peacefully, her head resting upon her folded arms.

"I don't know yet," Faith admitted.

Hanekoma chuckled. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Go get some sleep, Sky. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"And whose fault is that?" Faith said sharply, turning to glare at his former mentor.

"By the look of things, I'd say it's her fault," Hanekoma said, nodding towards Celia.

"You still haven't given me a reason not to erase you," Faith reminded in a petulant tone. "I doubt I'd even get in trouble for it. You can't expect me to believe these orders were really handed down to you from upstairs."

"Then erase me," Hanekoma invited, smiling wryly and knowing that his former student would do no such thing.

Predictably, Faith said nothing, and made no move for his weapon.

"You know, there's one thing I don't get," Hanekoma said conversationally. "Maybe you could enlighten me. I thought this young lady was your friend. I thought you respected her and cared for her. When did that change?"

Faith shut his eyes tightly. "Mr. H, between your meddling, your Composer sending Minamimoto to be my temporary Conductor, and Ariel failing me in a most spectacular fashion possible, I've had one hell of a week so far," he said carefully. "I haven't slept in nine days, and all I've had to eat or drink this entire time was a single coffee veritably drowning in your imprints, which I had to peel away one at a time. I am almost certainly not thinking clearly right now, and I'm definitely not in the mood for riddles or word games. If you have something to say, please, say it clearly."

"Alright. Have it your way," Hanekoma agreed. "Judging by what you said about the young lady's entry fee, you've never once looked into her mind, have you?"

"Just a glimpse while we were partners, thanks to our pact," Faith confirmed.

"So you admit that you don't really know what she's thinking," Hanekoma said in a leading tone. "You've never known for sure. Yet, you valued her opinion anyways. You enjoyed spending your time with her, hearing what she had to say and seeing what she wanted to show you. Your relief when you saw that she understood you was palpable, and your gratitude when she forgave you even more so."

"Well, yes. That's what happens when you trust and care for someone. Thank you for stating the obvious," Faith said dryly. "Now will you get to the point?"

"What part of ignoring her wishes now is trusting or caring for her?" Hanekoma asked.

"She didn't know what she was asking for," Faith said flatly.

"She knew exactly what she was asking for, Sky. I didn't need to intrude upon her thoughts to see that, and I'd wager that if your head was on straight, you would have seen it, too," Hanekoma scolded. "She told you, loud and clear, what she wanted. You would ignore that?"

"I can't…" Faith tried to interrupt.

"You can't what? You can't hurt her again? Is that why you'd rather take from her the one thing she prizes most, and hide it from her by twisting her past and memories?" Hanekoma challenged.

Faith stiffened as if he'd been slapped.

"How many times have I told you before? Trust your partner!" Hanekoma urged. "If you aren't sure what to do and if you know you aren't thinking clearly, who better to listen to than her? Especially when it's both of your lives and futures that are at stake?"

"People make the wrong choices for themselves all the time," Faith reminded.

"And that includes Composers," Hanekoma countered. "This concerns you, too, and if you're at all afraid of making the wrong choice, trust her to make a decision for you. And if she one day regrets it, at least you'll be there for her. That's what partners are for, right?"

Faith rose to his feet with a sigh. Then he moved to Celia's side, tenderly scooping her up in his arms. "Mr. H," he called.

"Hmm?"

"Have I ever told you that you're a meddlesome, sanctimonious old coot?" Faith asked wryly.

"No, but I'll take that as a compliment," Hanekoma smirked. "Have you decided, then?"

"Yes. I've decided that what happens to her is none of your business," Faith grinned. A doorway appeared behind him.

"You know, you're every bit as stubborn as Josh," Hanekoma chuckled. "Good luck, Sky."

* * *

When Celia next opened her eyes, she found herself lying in her own, comfortably familiar bed. Her room was mostly dark, with just a sliver of light from the rising sun peering through her window.

She closed her eyes and nearly dozed off once more, when she heard Faith's farewell, spoken in a tone of absolute finality, echoing in her mind. She sat up at once, reaching for her phone.

It was July 15th, the day she had died.

"But I remember," Celia whispered, thinking of the Underground and the Reapers, of Hanekoma and of Faith. "I remember everything, Faith. Did you change your mind, then?" No longer tired, Celia hopped out of her bed and opened her blinds, looking west towards the city of Seattle.

For several minutes, she did little more than stand there, staring and wondering.

* * *

Half an hour later, Karen emerged from her room to find Celia sitting at their dining table, fully awake. "Celia? What are you doing up so early?" she asked, shocked.

"I woke up and couldn't fall asleep again," Celia answered with a shrug. "Good morning, Karen."

"Good morning," Karen replied. She busied herself with the coffee pot, then sat down across from Celia, stirring her coffee. "Hey, Celia, you have any plans for the day?"

The familiar words brought a brief smile to Celia's lips. "Yeah, kind of. I was going to go visit Faith in Seattle. What about you? Just work?"

Karen shook her head quickly. "No. The boss is out today, and he told me I could have the day off, too," she said.

"Want to come with me, then?" Celia invited, knowing that was what Karen had on her mind already.

"Hmm… yeah, that sounds fun," Karen said, pretending to think it over. "It'll be nice to meet him. You've been talking about him so much lately. Are we leaving now?"

Celia peeked down at her phone, and saw that she and Karen would likely end up on the same bus they had taken the first time. "Go ahead and finish your coffee. The bus won't get here for another twenty minutes," she said.

* * *

Upon seeing Celia glance back towards the bus stop for the fifth time, Karen finally spoke up. "Is something wrong, Celia? Why do you keep looking behind us?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, no reason," Celia said quickly, mentally berating herself for her paranoia. Then she forced herself to keep her eyes forward until the coffee shop came into sight. There no sign of Faith, but then again, Celia hadn't really expected to find him waiting out front, anyways.

Celia and Karen stepped inside and made their way to Celia's usual table in the corner.

"So when's your friend showing up?" Karen asked curiously.

Celia shrugged. "I don't know. We didn't plan anything specific. We never do, really; he just drops by whenever his office can spare him for a bit," she explained.

Karen shot her an exasperated look.

"What?" Celia asked defensively.

"Never mind," Karen sighed. "Say, why don't you just text him and ask him when he's coming by?"

"O-Oh. Yeah, I… I guess I can do that, huh?" Celia stammered, feeling embarrassed that she hadn't thought of it before. She opened her phone, holding her breath as she brought up her contacts list.

Faith's name was there, just as it should have been, and a few seconds later she finished typing and sending her message. Almost immediately, little red letters popped up beneath her message.

Not delivered.

Confused, Celia tried again, and then a third time. Not delivered. Not delivered.

"What's the matter?" Karen asked.

"Something's wrong with my phone," Celia murmured, before attempting a call instead.

"We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again," a feminine voice replied pleasantly.

"Disconnected?" Celia wondered aloud.

"Maybe he changed his number," Karen offered comfortingly. "Well, if that's the case, I guess we'll just have to wait until he comes by, right?"

Celia nodded numbly, even as she remembered Faith's promise that the Underground would not follow her back to her normal life. "Yeah. He'll be here soon," she said, hoping desperately that her words would be quickly proven true, and her fears laid to rest.

Noon came and went, and then the afternoon grew late, too, as Celia did her best to focus on her work with her roommate hovering around impatiently. Afternoon gave way to evening, and the sun began to set, and still there was no sign of Faith.

"I guess he was busy today," Karen said, noticing Celia's distress and realizing that it went beyond mere disappointment.

"Yeah, he must be," Celia agreed quietly.

Reluctantly, Celia followed her friend back to the bus stop. Lost in her thoughts, she said little else for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 _Let me go, gravity,_

 _What's on my shoulder?_

 _Little by little,_

 _I feel a bit better,_

 _Let me know, set me free,_

 _I feel a bit older,_

 _Just once more unto the breach,_

 _Dear friend, once more…_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Lyrics taken from Calling.**

 **Most of the Japanese words were translated already. "Yakusoku no nai asu dearouto, kimi no tatsu basho ni kanarazu mai modorou" is a line from a play, roughly translating to "Even though tomorrow holds no promise, I will return to this place."**


	12. Epilogue: Promise's Reprise

**~ Epilogue ~**

 **Promise's Reprise**

* * *

 _There may not be an answer to this tune,_

 _Why the sky is blue?_

 _Is the change in me all true?_

 _Now that you are next to me I have no fears,_

 _And all I know is that I want to be with you,_

 _Sometimes, it's easy to forget the times we weep,_

 _The moment makes us weak,_

 _And all the shame I seek,_

 _Memories exist for all the precious days my heart still wants to keep,_

 _Somewhere deep inside of me…_

* * *

Tucked away in her usual spot at the corner of the coffee shop, Celia kept herself busy with her latest drawing. Her computer remained powered off in her bag, resting by her feet beneath the table. She worked instead with a very old set of pastels she had recently dug out of her closet, trying her best to keep her mind occupied.

But the date, July 24th, flashed through her mind against her will.

With a sigh, Celia set her pastels down and began fiddling with her phone. Nine days had come and gone. Ten sunrises that brought renewed hopes of seeing her friend again soon. Nine, and soon to be ten, mornings spent waiting in vain.

Faith had been true to his promise, if he had ever made the promise at all. Life had more or less returned to normal, but an unpleasant ache followed Celia wherever she went. The Reapers' Game felt like a distant dream she could not quite shake, a dream she yearned to return to.

But Celia knew it had been more than a dream. She felt rather morbid as she scrolled through a list of the articles she had saved down, but they were her only assurance that her haunting memories were very, very real.

A story of one Graham Smith, killed nearly three weeks ago in a freak accident while working in a university lab. His classmate and lab partner, Jason Reed, had been rushed to the hospital, and was expected to make a fully recovery.

A tragic tale of a college professor, Paul Ward, who had suffered a heart attack and passed away in his sleep ten days ago.

A more familiar article of a successful local businessman, Michael Ariel, who had been shot and killed in what was believed to be a drug-related crime.

An article she had found only that morning, detailing how a local hunter, Bradley Dolphus, had been mauled to death while attempting to poach a bear.

With a sigh, Celia tabbed away from her browser. She knew that if she dug further, she would likely find others she'd recognize. At least three people named Tom had passed away in the last month, any of who could have been Paul's partner, and an obituary for Trevor seemed likely to appear soon. Unfortunately, knowing that the Reapers' Game had been real didn't seem to be doing her any good.

Celia brought up a list of her recently sent texts, including one sent that very morning: sixteen messages sent to Faith's number, each met with the same error. Nine calls, too, that hadn't gone through.

She set her phone aside listlessly, reaching for her pastels once more. Only then did she notice someone standing a few feet away from her table, a gangly teen with russet brown hair, who looked to be sun-deprived with his pasty complexion.

"Uh… hey… hi," Blake said, his discomfort growing when he saw Celia looking his way.

"Hello," Celia greeted politely.

"I… uh… I don't know if you remember me," Blake mumbled. "I ordered a drawing from you a few weeks ago."

"I remember you, Blake," Celia said, fighting hard not to smile.

"Oh," Blake said, swallowing uncomfortably. "Hey, uh… I'm sorry. I was a total ass to you. The picture you drew for me was fine. More than fine, really. It was great. I was just, I mean… I just wanted to apologize. So um… sorry."

"No worries," Celia said, trying to sound cheery as she accepted the clumsy apology.

Blake nodded, relieved. "Also, I shouldn't have run off without paying you," he added, reaching into his pocket for an envelope stuffed full of cash. "You already put so much time and effort into drawing it for me, after all."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It happens all the time," Celia assured. "Besides, I don't have the print with me right now, anyways."

"Even if it happens all the time, it isn't fair," Blake said determinedly, holding out the envelope to her anyways. "You can keep the print. I just didn't feel right ripping you off."

"Really, Blake, it's alright," Celia insisted. But as she spoke, she noticed what little color there was on Blake's face draining away. "Blake? What is it?"

"That… that drawing," Blake whispered.

Celia followed Blake's gaze downward to her most current work, and winced, suddenly remembering what it was that she had been drawing.

A towering tree made purely of ice emerged from the sea below, standing tall and proud beneath the starless night sky. Crystalline leaves covered each of the trees many branches, and sparkling snowflakes sprinkled down past them towards the waves below. Two figures sat in the tree's great hollow, sitting side by side and leaning against one another, cherishing the peaceful night.

Blake looked up at Celia in horror. "It was real?" he whispered questioningly, as if pleading with her to tell him otherwise.

Celia slumped back in her seat. She had known it was real all along, but somehow, finding absolute proof of it standing before her was something entirely different. "Yeah, I guess it was," she said listlessly.

"Oh, god," Blake groaned, slapping a hand over his forehead. He collapsed into the chair opposite of Celia. "I thought it was a dream. I kept hoping it was all just a dream and that none of it really happened. When I saw that article about Michael, I told myself it was a coincidence, too. Now I'm here, apologizing for being rude to you instead of for… ah, damn it. I'm sorry, Celia."

Celia wavered indecisively, wondering if she should try to alleviate some of Blake's guilt by telling him the rest of what she had learned. Then she quickly realized that there was no good way for her to explain her conversation with Hanekoma and Faith, and that she didn't really want to discuss it anyways. "Alright, you're forgiven," she said, readily accepting his apology. "Thank you, Blake."

"Don't thank me," Blake said, relaxing visibly. "Or apologize to me either, for that matter," he added quickly.

Celia chuckled. "Okay. I won't," she agreed. But her amusement faded quickly as she looked upon her phone again.

Blake frowned, noticing Celia's mood. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" he guessed.

Celia only shrugged.

"By the way, how did you end up getting back here? They didn't make you play the Game again, did they?" Blake asked. As he spoke, his eyes widened in shock, for another possibility had just occurred to him. "Wait… you didn't let them make you into a Reaper, did you?"

"I'm not really sure what happened," Celia admitted. "I didn't have to play the Game again, though. I just sort of fell asleep. When I woke up, I was alive again."

"That's the same thing that happened to me," Blake nodded. "I guess they decided to bring you back to life, after all."

"I suppose," Celia agreed unhappily.

"You know, I bet it had something to do with Faith," Blake said thoughtfully. "He must have known something we didn't."

Celia winced upon hearing Faith's name spoken aloud.

Blake shot her a sympathetic look. "He's really gone, then?" Blake asked tentatively. Celia didn't respond, and Blake, too, fell silent, unsure of what else to say.

Celia stared down at her drawing, which was only missing the last bit of shading on the sky. Somehow, though she was so near to being finished, she couldn't find the will to reach for her pastels and complete it.

When Blake next spoke up, several minutes had already gone by. "Hey, Celia. I'm really sorry about Faith," he said quietly. "I've got to go. And… um… I doubt you'd be interested, but if you ever need someone to talk to… well, we were partners once, weren't we? If you ever need someone to talk to, just let me know. I'd be happy to listen."

Celia nodded. "Okay. Thanks again, Blake."

"See you later," Blake said, rising to leave. As he departed, he glanced back worriedly at his former partner, wishing that there was more he could offer her.

* * *

Once Blake was gone, Celia turned back to her painting. But before she could convince herself to reach for her pastels again, someone dropped into Blake's recently-vacated seat.

"Finally," Faith groaned. "I thought he'd never leave."

Celia looked up at him in shock.

"You alright, C? You look a bit pale," Faith said worriedly.

"You came back," Celia whispered.

"Of course I came back. It's my city, remember?" Faith smiled. "It was, anyways. Now it's our city."

"Our city," Celia murmured.

"Well, unless you've changed your mind," Faith said uneasily. "If you have, it might not be too late for me to fix things for you."

At that notion, Celia burst out laughing, shaking her head as her eyes brimmed with tears of relief and joy. "I thought you were gone," she said, her voice barely more than a trembling whisper. "I thought you were gone, Faith."

In a flash, Faith moved to her side, wrapping one arm around her shoulder comfortingly. "Hey now, don't cry," he said soothingly. "Come on, you'll mess up your work." As he spoke, he realized how odd it was for Celia to be drawing by hand instead of digitally, and took a closer look at the nearly completed drawing.

Suddenly, Celia felt flustered. Up until then, she had wanted so desperately for him to see her new drawing, but now that he was there, staring at it in silence, she felt an urge to hide it. "H-Hey," she protested, trying to wipe her tears away. "Don't look at… I mean, it's not really… it's not finished yet."

"It's beautiful, Celia," Faith whispered. "But… but why?"

"I didn't know if you were coming back," Celia said softly, feeling sillier than ever. "I didn't want to forget."

"Forget? I left all your memories intact, didn't I?" Faith asked, perplexed.

Celia took a deep breath and brushed away her tears. Then she looked at her friend sternly. "Yes, you did. You've also been avoiding me for over a week now," she said, trying her best to sound annoyed. She slid her phone over to him.

Faith stared at the list of her recently sent messages. A moment later, everything clicked into place, and he began to laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Celia. I should have warned you."

"Warned me about what?" Celia asked, finding it impossible to hold onto her anger.

"Come on. Let's go for a walk," Faith invited. "There's a few things I need to go over with you, and this probably isn't the best place to talk."

* * *

Once they were outside, Faith began leading Celia down the familiar Seattle streets. Under the open, sunny sky, Celia noticed that Faith seemed every bit as weary and haggard as he had been when they had met in Hanekoma's café.

"Are you alright, Faith?" Celia asked gently. "You seem a bit tired."

"A bit, but I'm feeling better now than I can ever remember feeling," Faith assured her, smiling serenely.

Then they came upon the Space Needle, and Faith stopped. "Here?" Celia asked.

Faith nodded. "We should probably retreat to the Underground to talk," he suggested. "You're a Reaper now, so you can move between the two planes at will."

"Okay," Celia agreed. "How?"

"We just did," Faith grinned. "Like I said, at will." As if to demonstrate, he threw a punch at a nearby pedestrian, and his fist sank straight through the elderly man's torso. "Once you get used to moving between planes, you'll become more aware of which plane you are currently in."

"Oh," Celia said, deciding it best not to imitate Faith in case she hadn't done everything quite right.

"Anyways, about what I was saying earlier," Faith continued. "I haven't been avoiding you, Celia. In fact, just three hours ago, we were having coffee together in WildKat. I put you to sleep after, and brought you home from Shibuya right after."

"From Shibuya?" Celia asked. Then the truth dawned upon her. "Of course! You were still in the Reapers' Game!"

"Yep," Faith said with a nod. "The Game still had to happen, but the Realground had to diverge. After I brought you home, I had to rewrite the past week, leaving a shadow of the Realground to run parallel to the game, and correct the true Realground to properly account for the Game's outcome. You relived the time since your death here in the true Realground, while I was confined to the Underground and the original state of the Realground."

"That explains why I couldn't reach you. We weren't even in the same plane," Celia said thoughtfully.

"Which shouldn't be a problem in the future," Faith said, handing Celia a phone that looked fairly new. "This used to be Ariel's. With it, you'll be able to reach me regardless of what plane you're in or whether you have signal. I already copied everything from your phone onto this one, too."

"Really? Thanks," Celia said. She began flipping through the new phone, and quickly saw that everything was already in order, just as Faith had promised.

"I've seen Producers do some pretty amazing things with ordinary phones," Faith went on. "So if you want to experiment with your phone – or mine, for that matter – go right ahead."

"How many Producers have you known?" Celia asked curiously.

"Including you? Three," Faith replied.

"So when you say Producers, you really just mean Hanekoma," Celia guessed slyly.

"Pretty much," Faith admitted. "I never really got to see much of Michael's work. He and I were both too busy trying to cover for Minamimoto."

"Speaking of Minamimoto," Celia interrupted, suddenly remembering how Bradley and Trevor had seemingly singled her out during the game. "Two of the Reapers kept targeting me during the Game. They claimed that the Conductor sent them."

"Dolphus and Nguyen, the two Reapers you and Blake erased, right?" Faith asked. He sighed. "That's my fault, too. Years ago, when Minamimoto and I first met and partnered up, we already disliked each other. By the time we finished the week, we hated each other outright. He was every bit as unhappy about our arrangement here as I was. He couldn't risk moving against me directly; even while I was a Game Master and my powers were limited, I would've gladly put the Game on hold to deal with him. Since he couldn't touch me, he took it out on you instead." He smiled sadly. "I did try to warn you. Being my friend can be pretty dangerous."

"I don't care," Celia said fiercely, not liking the faint trace of doubt she heard in his voice.

"I know you don't," Faith laughed. "That's why I changed my mind about sending you away. As Mr. H always says, trust your partner. You knew what you were getting yourself into. I hope you knew, at least."

"Oh, I knew," Celia said, relieved. "And if it's ever too much for me to handle alone, I know you'll be there for me."

"I will," Faith promised solemnly.

"So, now that I'm Producer, what do I have to do?" Celia asked curiously.

"There's a few things you should know about Producers, first," Faith began.

"Hanekoma told me that no one's supposed to even know the Producers exist," Celia said.

"Precisely," Faith nodded. "Normally, none of the Reapers even meet the Producer, unless the Producer is forced to intercede in the Game. The problem is, you're a Reaper, too. For now, you can just share my disguise. Most of the Reapers believe me to be a visitor from Shibuya. You and the Conductor will be the only ones to know what I really am; the Conductor will know you as my personal assistant, and will not hand you any assignments, either. You can follow the Game at your own discretion."

"Umm… are you sure Minamimoto will listen?" Celia asked dubiously.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Faith chuckled. "Thankfully, he and the other two Reapers from Shibuya are headed home today. You and I will have to pick a new Conductor before our next game, but we'll have at least a few days to decide. In the meantime, I'd like you to redesign the Player pins."

"Really? I like the snowflake motif, though," Celia said.

"So do I. Ariel was following my request when he designed the Player pins," Faith said. "I've always felt his design to be a bit underwhelming, though, and I'd like to see what you can do with it. You can keep the theme if you'd like, or do something entirely new if you'd prefer. It's up to you."

"Okay," Celia agreed readily.

"Ariel's old workspace and supplies are yours, if you want them," Faith went on. "But if you'd like to keep working from home instead, I understand. I can send you some blank pins whenever you're design is ready."

"Where did Michael used to work?" Celia asked curiously.

"When needed, the Reapers gather on the floor below the Hall of Adjudication, that room where we brief the Players before the Game," Faith explained. "Ariel and I shared one of the corner offices on that floor. I'm still working there now, but if you're worried about me distracting you, we can work something out; I can move out easily enough."

"I can share an office with you," Celia decided immediately. "You don't have to worry about distracting me."

"Alright. Would you like me to show you the office now?" Faith offered.

Celia was about to agree, but changed her mind at the last second. "We're not in a hurry, are we?" she asked.

"Not really, no," Faith replied.

"Then maybe we could wait until tomorrow," Celia suggested. "You've been busy ever since the Game ended, haven't you? You should go home and get some sleep, Faith."

"Do I really look that bad?" Faith laughed. "Mr. H told me the same thing."

"How long has it been since you've gotten a full night's rest?" Celia countered. "Two nights? Three?"

"Something like that," Faith said evasively. "Tell you what, once we're finished, I'll head home and take a nap before I get back to work."

Celia gave him a hard stare. "How long has it been?" she demanded suspiciously.

Faith sighed, realizing he wasn't about to fool her. "Since before you were killed," he admitted.

"Since before I… Faith! That was over a week ago!" Celia protested. She shook her head in exasperation. "I'll get started on the Player pins, and we can go over everything else later," she said. "Go get some sleep, Faith."

"I'm fine, Celia. Really," Faith insisted. "At least let me give you a ride home, first."

Celia almost declined the offer, when another idea occurred to her instead. "Alright," she agreed. "Thanks."

* * *

Late that evening, Karen returned home, nearly bored to death after yet another long, idle day in her office. "Hello, Celia," she called wearily.

Across the room, Celia was sitting at the dining table, drawing away. "Hey, Karen. How was work?" she greeted, looking up briefly and flashing her friend a welcoming smile.

Karen shrugged. "Boring. Same as always," she said. "How about you? You seem to have cheered up a little. Is that pastel painting of yours coming along well, then?"

"It's nearly finished, but I'm putting it on hold for a bit to work on something else," Celia said.

"Really? Hang on, let me put my stuff away, then you can show me what you're up to and we can figure out what to do for dinner," Karen said, heading towards her room.

"Sure," Celia said absently, as her attention returned to her work. A silent alarm went off in her head, though, and she leapt to her feet a split second later. "Karen, wait!" she called.

But she was already too late. Karen stood frozen at the open doorway leading to Celia's bedroom, staring with her jaw agape. "Umm… Celia?"

"Yes?" Celia asked innocently, bracing herself.

"Did you know there's someone in your room, sleeping on your bed?" Karen asked carefully.

"Yeah," Celia admitted. "That's Faith. You know, the friend I mentioned to you a couple times?"

"You've mentioned him more than a couple times, actually," Karen commented wryly. "So that's him, huh? Did he explain where he's been this past week? And what's he doing here?"

"Yeah, we talked for a bit," Celia said. "He offered to give me a ride home, too. He was pretty tired, though, so I told him to take a nap and promised we could talk after he woke up."

"You invited him to stay so that he could take a nap?" Karen asked incredulously. She shook her head, exasperated. "You two have to be the strangest couple I've ever met."

"Oh, we're not really…" Celia tried to interrupt.

Karen cut her off with an exasperated sigh. "Whatever you two are, then," she amended wryly. "Anyways, what're we going to do about dinner? Did you two have something planned already?"

"Nope," Celia said. "Come to think of it, I wonder if he forgot to eat this past week, too," she added quietly to herself.

"You're exaggerating, I hope," Karen commented dryly, overhearing Celia.

"Oh. Yeah, of course," Celia said quickly. "Hey, why don't we go to dinner together? You wanted to meet him, right?"

"Meet who?" Faith asked, coming awake with a yawn.

"Faith, this is my roommate, Karen," Celia introduced. "Karen, this is Faith."

"Nice to meet you," Karen greeted politely. "Celia's told me so much about you."

"Good things, I hope," Faith said, smiling faintly.

"Hey, Faith, Karen and I were thinking about getting dinner together. Want to join us?" Celia invited.

"Sure," Faith agreed, glancing out the window. "Looks like it's getting late, anyways. We can go over everything else tomorrow at the office, I guess."

"Everything else? The office?" Karen asked curiously.

Celia looked to Faith, unsure of how best to explain.

"My partner kind of bailed on me the other day. He used to handle most of the artistic stuff for the business, like logos and stuff," Faith said nonchalantly. "When Celia learned of it, she offered to take over for him."

"You're making her your new partner? Just like that?" Karen asked, frowning.

"Sure. It seemed like a pretty good idea," Faith said, shrugging. "She's certainly capable, from what I've seen."

"And you actually want to do this?" Karen asked, rounding on Celia. "You want to give up on the freelance stuff and work a regular job instead?"

Celia nodded happily. "It sounds like a lot of fun, and I was getting tired of scrounging for work, anyways," she said. "Don't worry about it, Karen. We've got it all worked out. Now come on, let's go find something to eat."

"Alright," Karen said with a shrug. "Give me a moment to freshen up."

"Sure. We'll wait for you downstairs, alright?" Celia said.

* * *

"Karen will probably be a while," Celia warned, when she and Faith stepped outside.

"That's alright," Faith said, unconcerned.

"Is there anything else you wanted to go over before tomorrow?" Celia asked.

"I think we've covered almost everything. We'll have to fill out some paperwork tomorrow. To the rest of the world, it will look like you're just working a regular job," Faith said. "That's pretty much all, unless you have any other questions for me."

"Just one," Celia said. "We're officially partners, right? Shouldn't we forge our pact again?"

"We shouldn't need to, unless you're planning to do battle in the Underground," Faith said. "Even then, Reapers can use their psychs without a pact, so a partner usually isn't necessary."

"Oh," Celia said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Faith smiled when he noticed Celia's crestfallen look. "But we can form a pact anyways, if you want," he offered, extending a hand towards her.

Celia took his hand at once, and as they touched, she felt Faith's presence shining warmly once more, sharing her elation and contentment. Then, on impulse, she tightened her grip and pulled herself closer, drawing her new partner into a tight hug. "Thank you, Faith," she whispered.

"No, I should be thanking you," Faith corrected warmly. "Thank you, C. This world ends with us, now."

* * *

 _A lullaby for you,_

 _Don't you worry, baby,_

 _I'll be here, by your side,_

 _May tomorrow be wonderful too,_

 _Close to you I hope to stay,_

 _Endlessly from today,_

 _Even through cloud days,_

 _You are not alone…_


End file.
